Merc's for Money: The Quest to Save Deadpool's Imaginary Boyfriend
by AshedPhoenixFeathers
Summary: When Madcap kidnaps Wade's boyfriend, Peter Parker, it's up to him and the Merc's with Money to save this "imaginary lover" before it's too late. (I promise it's better than it sounds.) [COMPLETE]
1. Chapter 1

**So, first off, a few notes. I'm not quite sure where this story stands, to be honest. It's definitely after the Merc's for Money dumped Wade, so maybe a few months after that. Peter is this isn't necessarily the running Amazing Spider-Man comic Peter. Like, they look and act the same, but Peter's not a rich CEO. He works as a genetic engineer/scientist for Tony Stark. He gets pays a decent wage, so he's not living in the slumps, but he's not dead-beat poor either. **

**Also, I hope you guys are at least a little familiar with the Merc's for Money. But here's a list of them anyway: **

**Solo - He impersonated Deadpool and accidentally saved an important government figures life (kinda forgot who - maybe the president) to take jobs at Deadpool's pay rate, and piggybacked on the success it gave Wade. Solo's impersonation helped Deadpool become more popular, thus benefiting both mercs, and inspiring Wade to start his Deadpool franchise. **

**Terror - Terror is an eternal entity that absorbs the talents of others through their dismembered limbs...yeah, that's basically it. **

**Slapstick - He resembles an animated clown and has the abilities of a slapstick cartoon character, such as one from "Looney Tunes", including warping reality to match that of an animated cartoon. (I got this straight from wikipedia). **

**Fool Killer (the Gregory P. Salinger one) - takes of the mantle of the last Fool Killer, who basically kills people who are absolute idiots. While with the Mercs for Money, he got himself a psychiatric degree, because he wanted to help rehabilitate villains, and became Deadpool's reluctant therapist. **

**Stingray - "As soon as he gets out of the water, Stingray is useless. He's like this team's Aquaman, except he can't talk to fish." - Deadpool, from Deadpool (2016) Issue #7. (He was also a secret operative for Captain America to keep tabs on Deadpool - shhh, don't tell anyone.) **

**Masacre - He is a vigilante who only speaks Spanish. His first appearance was in Deadpool 2016. He's literally referred to as "The Deadpool of Mexico." **

**And MADCAP (who was also a member of the Mercs for Money at one point) - During an encounter with Deadpool (both of whom like to fight it out with each other because they both have regenerative healing abilities and can't die and are insane) and Thor, Thor's lightning hits them both and disintegrates them. But only Deadpool regenerates. As it turns out, Deadpool and Madcap regenerated together, resulting in Madcap being stuck inside Deadpool's mind (where he is tortured and mock continuously by Deadpool). Eventually, Deadpool's body gets torn in half, and one regenerates as Deadpool and the other as Madcap. Later, Madcap joins the Merc's for Money, feigning innocence (when really his time in Deadpool's mind completely screwed him up more than he was before). He ends up impersonating Deadpool in that time, attacking the other Mercs for Money and used his power to cause chaos and havoc in New York City in Deadpool's name. Deadpool stops him, but Madcap still hates him and wanted to completely and utterly ruin his life and cause him nothing but pain. :D **

**And, of course, Deadpool (and you all should know about him). **

**Anywho, lesson over! Enjoy the beginning of this fic!**

* * *

Something's wrong.

Wade can feel it before he even opened the door.

To any outside eyes, there wouldn't be a problem. The door was closed and locked, and the faint hum of the tv inside playing the Golden Girls was still going since Wade left to go grocery shopping. But there was something off about...everything. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way the carpet was scuffed and dirty, and _not _the way it was when he left. Or the new scrapes and grooves on the inside of the door frame. Or the fact that Peter had yet to answer the door.

Wade sent him a message outside asking him to open the door for him when he got there. His arms were so overloaded with grocery bags he could hardly move, let alone grab his own key. Peter wouldn't have ignored him, especially since Wade happened to be carrying their dinner for tonight. And because he also bought a new box of condoms while he was out.

There was a chance Peter got caught up in his experiments again. Sometimes, he'd pop in his headphones and lose himself in his work to the extent that Wade literally had to drag him away to make sure he got the essentials for living. Like eating, sleeping, and seeing actual sunlight. A part of Wade wanted to believe that was the case. But something was off-kilter. Almost like Wade's own brand of spider-sense.

A _Spidey-_sense.

Peter hadn't even been working on experiments when Wade left. After breaking his leg during a battle with one of his roques a few days ago, Wade had sentenced him to bedrest. He left Peter to reading a book on the couch this afternoon, while he took care of their shopping list. It was some super, nerdy science book that Peter's been gushing about for weeks, so there was no chance he stopped reading it to disobey Wade's doctor orders.

Slowly, Wade crouched and set down the plastic bags as quietly as possible, wincing when the loud crackle filled the empty hallway like a bass speaker. He grabbed the gun holstered to the back of his pants. Holding it confidently, he cautiously retrieved his key from his pocket, unlocked it, gently twisted the doorknob, and flung the door open fast enough that it slammed into the wall inside the apartment, with his gun aimed and ready to shoot.

There was no one inside at first glance, but Wade wasn't taking any chances. He moved swiftly inside, cautiously sidling along the wall.

"Peter?" He called, stepping over the sprawled mess of coats spilling from the hallway closet. When no one answer, he bee-lined for the living room. As soon as he set eyes on the room, his grip on the gun handle tightened. No one was there, but someone had made themselves on home while he was away. The tv was still going, but it had been knocked from its spot against the wall. The couch was on its back and it looked as though someone had flipped the armchair over. The coffee table was in splinters and the cups him and Peter used for coffee that morning were in shards across the floor. Pieces of them across the room, suggesting that they'd been thrown.

The blanket Peter had been curled in was strewn across the floor, and when Wade bent to pick it up, a dark splotch of red stain the front lingered on his fingers. Strangling the clothe, he lurched back to his feet. "Peter? _Peter?" _

He sprinted out of the living room, jumping over the mess scattered throughout the rest of their apartment, and kicked open the door to their room. It was empty. He searched the bathroom. The kitchen. Even the storage closet. All showed signs of a battle, but none held the person he was looking for.

Wade found himself back in the living room, still clutching the blood-stained blanket with the gun locked in a death-grip in his hand. Who could've done this? He hadn't been gone that long. Barely an hour.

Peter wasn't easy to sneak up on. Even Wade had a hard time catching him unaware. No one could've jumped him without his spider-sense speaking up about it. Whoever it was, Peter had obviously fought back. He could fight better than the average man, even with a broken leg, so whoever had done this knew what they were doing. Especially if they actually managed to take him down.

But where was he now? Who the _fuck _had the balls to come into Wade's apartment and fight _his _injured boyfriend? While he was out on a grocery run, no less?

With a furious growl, Wade threw the blanket on the floor and resisted the urge to shoot the entire load of his gun into the soft downy of the Avengers-themed fabric. He did kick a chunk of the table across the room though and would've probably punched a hole in the couch if not for the soft and pleasant _ding _of his phone, announcing that he had a text message.

Digging it out of his pocket, he looked at the screen to see who was messaging him. And scrambled to unlock it when he saw who it was from.

It was a message from Peter.

_**Baby Boii: Hello DP, nice to see you again. Like what I did with the place? **_

This...wasn't Peter. Not the person texting him at least. There was no familiarity in the way the message was crafted. Peter wasn't much of a grammar freak when it came to messages, and used just as many abbreviations as Wade did. Besides, the tense of the message suggested it was coming from an acquaintance.

'Nice to you _again_.' So someone _Wade_ knew, not Peter. Someone he hadn't seen in a while.

_**U not bby boi. Who dis? **_Wade punched into the phone, doing his best not to crack the screen with the pressure of his fingers.

It took less than a minute for a new message to appear on the screen.

_**Baby Boiii: An old friend. **_

_**Baby Boiii: I have to say I'm surprised with you. **_

_**Baby Boiii: What are you doing with someone like this? **_

A picture followed and this time the screen did crack in Wade's grip.

It's Peter. The picture is dark and musty looking, and there's something familiar about his surroundings, but he'd know that mound of brown hair and determined eyes anywhere. He's in the same Deadpool shirt he was wearing this morning, only it's now crumpled, dirty, and stained with blood. His arms were bound above his head in a way that suggested he was hanging from someplace. A gruesome cut on his forehead left a large trail of blood down his face, where he was glaring fiercely at the camera with his mouth gagged.

_**Baby Boiii: What a beautiful creature. **_

_**Baby Boiii: Managed to snag a pretty one, didn't you DP. ;) **_

Wade has to take several deep breathes before the red in his vision clears. He had no mercy on the little buttons on his phone as he typed:

_**What do u want **_

The next message takes longer this time.

_**Baby Boiii: Damn, he is important isn't he. No threats. No promises of death. I'm surprised DP. I expected rage and all I get is cooperation. LOL. He has a nice and tight noose on your dick, I see. I bet he is nice and tight. ;) 3 **_

"Imma kill 'em," Wade muttered. "Imma kill em' _dead_. All dead. Completely dead. So dead not even Death is gonna know what the fuck to do with im'."

_**Baby Boiii: Oh, that might be harder than you think. I'm kind of hard to kill. You should know. **_

Wade froze, feeling a dark tingle scratch up his spine.

_**Baby Boiii: That's right, I'm watching you DP. Look at you. You look so mad. So confused. It's been so long since I've seen your ugly face. **_

_**Baby Boiii: It reminds me of how much I hate you. **_

Wade straightened, looking around the room. Everything is such a mess, it wouldn't be hard to stash a camera here in the clutter. He didn't like being watched. Didn't like knowing he was being watched either. It rubbed him the wrong way. Like sandpaper on a dick.

When nothing stands out to him right away, he slowly turned back around, took a deep breath to calm his nerves, and typed.

_**WHAT do u want **_

_**Baby Boiii: Just your complete and utter pain. That's not too much to ask, is it? **_

_**Baby Boiii: Oh, and right off the bat, I wouldn't suggest contacting anyone. **_

_**Baby BoiIi: Not your Mercs for Money. Not your Avenger buddies. Not even the X-Men, **_

_**Baby Boiii: I'll know. I'm watching. And if you do, I won't hesitate cutting up this pretty little piece of ass you've snagged yourself and sending you back his remains. **_

Who the hell is this guy? Wade had a near endless list of people gunning for him, but he's been so below the radar lately, no one came to mind. Who'd he piss off recently? He's helped the Avengers with a few infiltration jobs, but he's spent most of his time patrolling with Peter and catching D-listers (none of whom had the skill to pull something like this off).

_**Who is this**_

_**Baby Boiii: I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet. **_

_**Baby Boiii: Anyway, I've got to go. Talk to you later, DP. ;) **_

_**Baby Boiii: Boop. **_

That's when Wade feels as though he just took a grenade to the chest. His lungs freeze as his eyes locked onto the last message.

Boop.

No. It couldn't be.

His phone dings again with a new picture.

There's a new person in this one, standing next to Peter. He's wearing a bright, flowy looking jumpsuit, half of it a painfully garish yellow and the other half pinstriped purple. The yellow mask molded to his face stretched gruesomely, almost cartoonishly, with a large, joker-esque smile reaching ear to ear. A pair of wild, sadistic-looking eyes stare at Wade through the screen. A purple cape hangs on their shoulders, topped off with a large, wide-brimmed purple hat. He has one arm cast over Peter, smooshing their faces close together, the psycho's lips pursed in a kissy-fashion, while the other holds the camera at a selfie angle. Peter's face is scrunched up and wincing like the angle is putting him in pain.

_**Baby Boiii: xoxoxoxo - Madcap. **_

That's when Wade throws his phone on the ground and shoots every bullet in his gun into the small device. It doesn't even get to three before it's in pieces, but Wade doesn't care and doesn't stop pulling the trigger till bullets don't come out anymore. When it clicks, he hurled the empty gun across the room.

"Dammit to fucking hell," he roared, kicking the couch out of his way as he stormed back to the bedroom. He threw open the closet and dug through the weapons stashed inside. He's in his suit before he even realized he had it in his hands and was strapping every possible weapon he could get his hands on onto his body.

His mind is in an upheaval, rolling up and down like turbulent waves, soaking the hard bone of his skull in bloodlust and rage. He thought he killed Madcap. That bastard was supposed to be _dead_. Gone. Ciao. Bye-bye! See you in hell, you garish motherfucker!

When did he come back? Why did he have to rope Peter into this? Why couldn't the lunatic come storming at Wade and blowing him to bits, like a good pyscho?

Because he was too much like Deadpool. That's why. He knows the best way to get under Wade's skin. Last time, he had completely poisoned Ellie, Preston, and her husband (and basically anyone Wade came in contact with), killed dozens of innocent people and sent Wade goose chase after goose chase just to mess with him. Of course, he couldn't stick to the rules.

His movements are quick and swift as he slammed a new magazine into the gun. Admittedly, Mad Cap's crazy schemes of revenge weren't all without fault. He _had _been stuck in Wade's mind for a while, and Wade hadn't exactly been nice to him while he was stuck in there.

Because he just _had _to go making a fucking monster out of his own insanity. Good job, you motherfucking screw-up.

And now Peter was in the clutches of that pyscho. Oh, when Wade got his hands on Madcap again, that lunatic was going to _wish _he had stayed locked up in Wade's brain. Nobody snuck into his home and hurt his boyfriend like that. Nobody.

Slamming the closet shut again, he went to the nightstand next. He rummaged through an assortment of knives, spare web-shooters, and a few empty cartridges, before resurfacing with a new phone. This was one decorated with little bloodied stickers of knives, guns, and unicorns that, on a normal day, he would've found adorable. Today, it made him want to snap it in half. He flipped it open but his finger hovered over the contact button.

Wait. He couldn't do this. Not here at least. Madcap had bugged the living room, who's to say he didn't bug the bedroom while he was at it. This very minute he could be holding a knife to Peter's throat, waiting for Wade to press the call button and give him a reason to end the life of someone he loved.

With a growl, Wade tossed it back in the drawer. Looks like it was a solo mission. He couldn't bring in the rest of the Merc's, despite how he'd seriously appreciate a little back-up. Madcap was _his _to kill, but having a few extra bodies to shield Peter wouldn't have been bad.

But where to start? Wade wandered back to the living room and stopped in the middle of the clutter with his chin in his hand. It'd only be an hour since he left, and judging by the mess it left behind, it had taken some time to take down Peter (as it should be. Hell yeah, Baby Boy! Kick some ass with that beautifully casted leg!). So, Madcap couldn't have taken them far.

In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have shot his phone dead. As much as those pictures made his blood boil, there could've been clues. Full on Scooby-Doo and the gang stylin' it. Madcap liked to play games. He enjoyed toying with Wade's mind and luring him to different places.

From what he could remember, Peter was somewhere dark. Kind of cold looking, if he were being honest. Peter was hanging from somewhere, arms bound with a bunch of silly looking ropes, so Madcap must've come prepared. It couldn't have been very high up, cause Madcap had been standing almost level with him too. Wade scrubbed at his chin and ran a hard hand over his face.

He just needed to calm down and think. The old Deadpool would've gone in a fritz, throwing a tantrum, and raging. That's what Madcap would want. But Wade's gotten better now. Been through whole characters development arcs. He could _do _this. He just needed to keep a cool head. Peter was counting on him.

"Okay, okay, okay," he muttered, massaging the temples of his head. "Come on you fucker, _think_. It has to be somewhere close by. It's gotta be dark, kinda cold, with plenty of short places to tie people up at." He stopped and slapped a hand over his face. "The basement, you idiot!"

He jumped over the upturned couch and sprinted out through the door, nearly tripping over the groceries still outside, and bolted down the hallway. He took the stairs down four at a time, fell and broke his ankle and wrist once, but kept going till he was charging in through the basement door. It was mostly dark, sans a single, flickering lightbulb from the ceiling, and chilly from the lack of the buildings attendants using the furnace.

Dark, almost nondistinct splatters of blood led him to a far corner near the back. Wade sped up when the bound form of a person appeared in the shadows, heart lifting. Only to fall back to Earth. His jaw clenched, teeth cracking, as he pulled a knife out of his boot and cut down the inflatable dummy hanging from the pipes. The plastic face had a patch of brown hair crudely drawn on it with a matching frowny face and a single tear running down its cheek. A piece of paper with the words: _Oh, you just missed me, Wade!_ was taped to the chest.

On the ground, just beneath it, a single word was drawn on to the floor. **Boop**.

Wade blinked at it, then slammed the foot of his heel into it so hard, the bone rattled. He slammed it again and again and again until he heard a crack from inside his boot and the rest of the appendage brightened with crazy pain. He tossed the dummy to the side as he limped out of the room, fishing through his pockets just before he made it out of the door.

He retrieved the small black phone from his pouch. It's a good thing he had one stashed on his Deadpool suit too. At least Mad Cap saw him throw the other one away, so he thought Wade wasn't going to try and contact anyone. Unfortunately for Madcap, Wade had a few of his own tricks up his sleeve, and maybe a bit of back-up was a good idea after all.

He didn't hesitate to press the call button this time. Almost instantly, he got 6 different voice-mails. Wade sighed, thumping his head against the door frame. He waited until the phone beeped before he started his message.

"Hey, Merc's o' mine. Long time no kill. So, I know you're all still _super _pissed at me, and for good reason, but I'm politely asking you to toss that shit aside for one second. See, I kinda landed myself in a pickle. You all remember Madcap right? Super weirdo with a cheese face to match my own. So, turns out he's back and he's still not over his grudge - can you imagine? We all know how much he _sucked _last time and you all know how irresistibly charming I am." the phone beeped, signaling that his message would be coming to a close. "So, um, call me. We can all do a little mission together, for old times sake, and..." he tapered off and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look, guys, I don't expect much help. I don't deserve it. But...he - he came out of nowhere. I wasn't even expecting it. He broke into my apartment, and..." Wade swallowed, "Alright, so, thing is, he kidnapped my boyfriend. I'm not even joking. I know you're probably laughing at that Slapstick, but _yes_, I do have a boyfriend and he's gone. Madcap has him, and...I don't think I can get him back without your guys' help. Please...I - I don't want to lose him. He's one of the last few goods things I have in my life..._please_..." the phone beeped, assured him that his message was recorded, and Wade dropped his arm. He thumped his head more insistently into the door frame, getting rougher and rougher the more seconds ticked on.

Of course, they weren't going to help him. He hardly deserved it thanks to the way he treated them. They had every right to ignore him and his request. "A true testament to the shit-pile you are," Wade muttered savagely to himself. "Good job fucking up everything in your life."

He had no idea where to look now. Madcap was good at covering his tracks. He learned from the best, after all. Wade wouldn't get any clues unless Madcap gave them to him. And he couldn't reach out to many people. For one, Madcap was watching. The phone call he just made, _alone, _was a risky move. Besides, it's not like the Avengers were still chummy with him. Same with the X-Men. They held a mild tolerance, at best, but if he came within a mile proximity of either group, Madcap would put a bullet in Peter's head.

Peter was injured too. He couldn't fight to the best of his abilities. Then again, there's a chance Madcap didn't know Peter was Spider-Man. That could be an advantage. Then _again_, if Peter fought back, it'd have to be a calculated move. If he was caught again by Madcap, mid-escape-attempt, things could look _worse _for him. Madcap was an absolute nut-job, there's no telling what he would do.

Ugh, Wade _hated _feeling like this. For years, he suffered mental trauma, holes in his memories, and uncertainty for who he _was_. He's stumbled around in a blind haze killing and maiming anyone who got close until finally getting his act together and going global with his Deadpool franchise. But the feeling that he was teetering on a thin wire never quite left him. One small breeze could tip him over and he'd be falling.

Plummeting back into his old life. Another piece of shit in an otherwise shitty world. Just when things were looking up. _Just _when he found a person who brought something akin to _life _back to his human-husk of death and blood.

So wrapped up in his thoughts, Wade almost didn't notice it when the phone started buzzing. He froze, head mid-thump, and slowly looked down. The phone rushed so quickly to his ear, it was pretty sure he strained something. But he also couldn't care less. "Yes? Yes? Hello?"

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND?" Fool Killer demanded over the receiver, and Wade nearly wept with relief.

Like a domino effect, more lines connected to their joint call and more voices filled Wade's ear.

"You're _lying_," Slapstick's irritatingly high voice accused, "I want picture proof! Who'd ever date you? It's a scam!"

"It is unlikely that you'd find someone who could handle...well, _you." _Terror agreed.

"Pero sí que sonaba tan serio en su mensaje," Masacre pointed out.

"But he didn't sound pretty sincere, I guess," Stingray said.

"Eso es lo que dije."

"Yeah, it's weird," Solo grumbled. "And for the record, I'm only calling back because I'm curious about this boyfriend. I mean, who the hell would willingly put up with Deadpool?"

"I WANT PICTURE PROOF!" Slapstick screeched.

"Shaddup, Slapstick, you're giving me a headache already." Terror snapped.

"Make me you Walking-Dead-extra wannabe!"

"WHAT THE _HELL _DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME YOU CARTOON BASTARD?!"

Wade was grinning so wide, he was pretty sure he split his cheeks. He ran a hand over his face, leaning his head against the frame. "You beautiful sons' of bitches. Yes. Even you Slapstick, you freakish looney-toon, you."

**And done! I'm kinda excited to write the dynamic between the Mercs for Money. Like, I'm worried I'll write them wrong, but I'm also excited to try it out. **

**Anywho, hoped you like! See you next chapter! **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm glad to give you the next part of this story arc! There's only gonna be, like, one more chapter. So whoop-de-doo! **

They met up at an old run-down building not far from Wade's apartment. It was good and isolated, and there were plenty of things to destroy in case the Merc's grated on each other's nerves too much.

Wade made sure to use simple words when he gave them directions, and couldn't emphasize enough that they needed to be discreet. Walk in at different entrances. Stay away from public eyes. Avoid any and all cameras. Don't draw attention to yourself.

Still, he wasn't surprised in slightest when Slapstick jumped in through the window wearing the most cliche outfit Wade's ever laid eyes on. A long trench that was too big for his body, a top hat that looked like it belonged in an old 80's detective crime show, and a baggy pair of slacks that bunched around his scrawny ankles.

"Aw _hell_," Wade growled, snatching the hat off his head. "What the fuck, Slapstick? I said discretion!"

"This _is _discretion!" He snapped, snatching the hat back and slamming it on his head. "This is the most classic outfit of discretion. No one looked at me more than _five _times."

"Maybe if it was still the 80's!"

"Yeah, what the hell Slapstick?" Fool Killer said, emerging from the shadowed doorway across the room.

Slapstick stared at him, arms crossed and lips pursed, as Wade slapped a hand over his head and gestured wildly at Fool Killer's outfit. "You're _literally _wearing the same thing!"

Fool Killer adjusted his hat and straightened out the wrinkles in his trench coat, "Yeah, well I fill it out better."

"Only because you're wearing your armor underneath it," Slapstick accused, poking his metal-plated chest so hard it curled his finger like a slap-on bracelet. "And I can fill mine out too! Watch me!" He stuck his thumb in his mouth and blew out the way someone might blow up a balloon. As he did, his body got bigger and bigger as if someone were pumping him full of air, until the trench coat was completely filled in. Slapstick took his thumb out of his mouth and puffed his chest proudly.

Wade poked him sharply with the blunt end of his knife and air gushed out his mouth, making his lips flap grossly until he was a sagging, wrinkly mess of white skin and stretched clothes. His three pillar-like clumps of hair sagged limply around his head as he flopped over to glare at Wade.

"Rude."

"Estos trajes son realmente buenos para el espionaje," Masacre said, joining them, and Wade gaped. He was wearing the _exact _same thing as the other two.

"Not you too, Masacre."

"Se veía muy bien. Tuve que comprarlo," he said meekly, tapping his fingers together.

The side door opened and Terror stepped in. He was halfway across the room before he stopped, eyeing the identical set of trench coats and top-hats that mirrored his own. "Well...this is awkward."

"Ugh, why does Terror look so much better in it than we do?" Slapstick grumbled, trudging across the floor and plopping on the ground with a pout.

"It's the decaying skin," Fool Killer said, "It brings out his color. Besides, he has a better figure than the both of us."

Terror chest puffed. "Damn right."

"Alright, okay, we need to focus," Wade said.

They all stopped, freezing as if a frost giant at licked them or something, and stared at him, holding equal expressions of surprise. "Did I just hear _Deadpool _tell us to focus?" Fool Killer demanded, taking his helmet off to clean out his ear.

"Hey, I'm being serious," Wade snapped. "My Baby Boy is in the hands of a madman."

Slapstick huffed and lay back on the floor, his limbs akimbo. "I still don't believe in this 'baby boy' of yours. Where's my picture proof? Where're my stories of intimacy? How do you know its not just another one of your hallucinations?"

"What would you know about intimacy, Slapstick?" Solo asked, stepping into the room from the same door Terror used.

Slapstick jolted up, giving Solo a wide, nasty glare that made his features pinch too tightly to be natural. He jabbed an elongated, judgy finger in Solo's direction. "_Hey_, sexual intimacy isn't the only kind of intimacy! Just because I don't have testicles, doesn't mean I don't need human affection to survive!"

"I think all of you are _test_ing my patience. Look what you've made me do. I'm resorting to bad word puns - this is all your fault. Solo, why are you so late," Wade turned around and gasped, hands slapping against his cheeks, "You've got to be shitting me. A trench coat and hat. Really? Did you guys all chat-up and decide to mess with me by dressing the same? What part of discretion is hard to understand for you idiots?"

"Says the guy who's gone to missions in heels and dresses," Solo mumbled. "For your information, this outfit was on sale. I've got expenses and bills to pay, you know."

"Don't we all," Terror snarked from the back.

"Shut up you zombie-wannabe!"

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU GUYS NOT TO CALL ME A ZOMBIE!"

"Hey now, kiddies, play nice in the pool. Heh - a little Dead_pool_ humor for ya. But we need to discuss a strategy." Wade said, directing them to the old table he lugged in inside before everyone arrived. He found out in the dumpsters in the alleyway. It was kinda moldy and looked a breath away from crumbling, but he figured that if they were going to have a super badass mercenary meet-up, they at least needed a table to sit around. Besides, he didn't have time to lug the one from his apartment down there.

Solo stopped his arguing with Terror and Slapstick to look at him flummoxed. He glanced at Terror and Slapstick, both of whom shrugged, and looked back at Wade. "Strategy? _You_? Since when?"

"C'mon, I've always been a master of strategy!"

"You do realize that Stratego and Battleships don't count, right?"

"THEY'RE BOTH STRATEGY GAMES SO SHUT THE FUCK OF HAN-SOLO!"

Footsteps scuffled down the stairs to the left of Wade and whirled around with a gun in hand, instantly centering it on Stingray's forehead.

"Whoa, hey!" Stingray shouted, hands shooting up. "Chill out, it's me!"

Wade gave him a once over and gasped, tossing the gun over his shoulder where it reverberated off Fool Killer's head and smacked into Slapsticks face. "Finally, someone with a little taste," Wade beamed, flinging an arm over Stingrays shoulder.

Stingray looked down at his casual button-up shirt and jeans. "You said discretion, right?" He eyed the rest of the groups' apparel. "Was I supposed to wear a hat and trench coat? How come no one told me?"

"See guys, this is a true team member," Wade said, steering Stingray to the table. "The most trustworthy one in this group. Y'all should be more like him."

Stingray glowered at him, "Weren't you the one who said I was useless out of the water. And that I'm your teams 'Aquaman," he demanded. "Whatever that means," he added under his breath.

"Oh, tomato, potato," Wade flapped a hand at him. "Aquaman got _so _much cooler in his cinematic reboot. Though, I'm pretty sure that's only because they cast Jason Momoa to play him. Anybody can be popular with a bod like _that. _Now, let's get this mass-murdering, Madcap killing party started! Everyone, take a seat."

Solo glanced around the room, "There aren't any chairs."

"Then stand around the table and try to look like badasses."

They all sighed but begrudgingly did so. Though, they looked less like badasses and more like sadasses. Or maybe exasperatedasses. He couldn't really tell. "Alright," Deadpool started, needlessly slamming his palm against the table and making it creak and rattle. "Madcaps got my Boo. I want him back. Please help me."

They all stared at him for several minutes as the silence stretched on. Finally, Stingray quirked an eyebrow, "Wait...that's it?"

"Uh..._pretty _please help me with a cherry on top?"

"No, I mean, that's all you've got. Where's Madcap right now?"

Wade shrugged, plopping down on the table with his head in his arms. "I don't know. He was in my basement for a sec, then he upped and left. The bastard."

"How do we know Madcap is really back and this isn't just Wade's brain pulling tricks on him?" Terror asked.

"Yeah!" Slapstick demanded, leaning forward from where he was sitting cross-legged on the table, to poke at Wade's head. "Prove that this isn't just some big hallucination?"

Masacre slapped Slapsticks hand away, "A pesar de que esto puede ser un efecto de su enfermedad mental, todavía debemos ayudarlo. No deberíamos dejarlo en el estado mental en el que se encuentra. Obviamente está en apuros."

"See," Slapstick said, "Masacre agrees with me!"

Masacre sighed. "¿Por qué me uní a un equipo que no puede hablar español?"

"He sent me text messages! And pictures!" Wade exclaimed, "He's real! I promise!"

Solo folded his arms, face straight and deadpanned, "Fine, then where are these text messages? What pictures? I'm not gonna believe a word you say unless you've got some way to back it up."

"I..." Wade rubbed his neck, unable to meet their eyes. "Okay, funny story. I kinda shot an entire round of bullets in the phone."

The rest of them threw their hands up in the air.

"You've got to be kidding me," Stingray grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What, it pissed me off!"

Terror crossed his arms and loomed over Wade. He was probably glaring at him behind those sunglasses. "So, you're saying that you have no proof that Madcaps back, no proof that you _actually _have a boyfriend, and you expect us to just drop what we're doing to come help you without any disregard that you might be using us for your own gain again?"

Wade traced a meaningless pattern into the table, staring at the moldy wood so intensely it might break under his gaze. He only looked up when the silence grew heavy on his shoulders and rolled his fingers together meekly. "Uh...yes..."

"Okay, this was a waste of time," Fool Killer concluded, pushing off the table and making a bee-line for the door. "Catch ya'll Saturday for bowling night."

Wade looked up, eyebrows pinching, "You guys have a bowling night?"

"Slapstick, it's your turn to pay."

"You guys told _Slapstick _and not me?!"

Slapstick pat Wade's head unsympathetically, "Some people's company is more enjoyable than others."

"No," Terror said, picking up Slapstick by the nape of his neck, "It's because we can't get rid of you. You're like a piece of chewed up cinnamon gum on the bottom of our shoe that we can't pry off because it's actually a wad of super glue died pink from the blood of our enemies."

"That is oddly specific."

One by one, they each left the table. All except Masacre, who watched their retreating backs sorrowfully. "Todavía están molestos contigo, jefe. No quieren admitir que sus sentimientos están heridos."

Wade spared him a withering glance and lurched to his feet, following their retreating backs. "Come on guys," he said desperately, "I'm not gonna cheat you, I promise! This isn't like that! If he hadn't kidnapped Peter, I wouldn't have even called you."

"So, your imaginary boyfriends' name is Peter," Solo says without turning around. "Kinda mediocre, but eh. I guess you do you."

"HE'S NOT IMAGINARY!"

There was no use. They weren't going to listen to him. Probably still didn't trust him either. He was getting heavy paranoia-vibes.

Looks like it really was just him on this mission. Well, with Masacre of course. Which wasn't all bad. The guy only spoke Spanish, but at least he was loyal.

Wade turned back around and stalked to the table. Well, at least he had something to vent his frustrations on. The table would probably give out with the first kick, but he was willing to beat up on it till it was nothing but a pile of kindling. Masacre moved away from the table as if sensing his intentions.

But just before his foot could make first contact, Fool Killer called his name. "Hey, uh, Deadpool," Wade turned around to see Fool Killer looking down at his phone in confusion. He held it up to Wade. "Um, I think this is for you."

Wade swiped the phone from his hand, where a text message had popped up on the screen.

_**(212)731-6520: Hello, is DP with you? **_

_**(212)731-6520: C'mon Fool Killer, I know he's with you. **_

_**(212)731-6520: Be a dear and put him on the phone for me. **_

That was Peter's number.

Wade blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then screamed bloody murder.

Holy shit, Madcap knew Wade contacted the Merc's for Money. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_. Wilson, you risky-ass, stupid fuck! Madcap said he'd hurt Peter if he did. Ah, dammit it hell, what was Wade thinking? He shouldn't have called them. Should've left well enough alone and found Peter himself. Why is he such an idiot?

Wade couldn't breathe as he swiped the home screen, only to curse and thrust is back in Fool Killer's hands. "What the fucking code? C'mon, man! Who has a code in their phone anymore?"

"Everyone," Fool Killer huffed but quickly typed in the password.

As soon as he was done, Wade snatched it again and was typing out a reply.

_**U bettr not have hurt him u muthrfukr **_

_**(212)731-6520: There's a little more of the Deadpool I know. **_

_**(212)731-6520: I see that you violated the rules of our agreement. **_

_**(212)731-6520: I told you not to contact our old Merc buddies. **_

Wade's hands were trembling. He held the phone as steady as he could, swallowing thickly, but he felt like a charged up vibrator. One made out of nails.

He swears if Madcap sends him a picture of Peter's corpses he's gonna flip his shit. Morality code be damned. Who cares how many days he's gone without killing someone. None of that mattered with Peter wasn't there to celebrate with him.

He was going to hunt Madcap down to the ends of the Earth and tear the candle-melted face of his apart.

_**(212)731-6520: But then I thought, wow, they'd actually make this game of ours so much more fun. **_

_**(212)731-6520: So why not. Let them join. It won't matter in the end. **_

_**(212)731-6520: It'll be fun to have the gang back together again. **_

_**(212)731-6520: Oh, and Wade...**_

A few minutes passed before Wade realized Madcap was waiting for an answer.

_**Whut**_

_**(212)731-6520: I know your little secret. **_

A picture followed. It was a Spider-Man plushie with hearts colored on the eyes. A thumbtack pinned a note to its chest that read: _**DP 3 SM. **_

_**(212)731-6520: Boop. **_

"Dammit!" Wade growled and nearly threw the phone onto the ground if Fool Killer hadn't caught it at the last second. "Great, now you're all invited to feel my pain! It's not even a fucking surprise anymore!" And that picture! It was painfully clear what he meant. Madcap knew Peter's secret identity. The disgusting bastard knew that Peter Parker was Spider-Man.

Wade did kick the table that time, and as he demolished it with his very body, the rest of the Merc's for Money gathered around Fool Killer's phone to read the conversation.

"What secret?" Terror laughed, "Everyone knows you have the biggest crush on Spider-Man."

"I have yet to see the shrine you made for him," Slapstick sighed, "I don't need testicles to appreciate a butt like that!"

"You shall do no such thing," Wade yelled as he broke the table leg over his knee and pointed the splintered remains at Slapstick.

"I still don't see anything about a boyfriend, though," Solo pointed out, reading through the messages again. "Wouldn't Madcap had threatened him right about now? To get under your nerves or something?"

Huh. Guess the Merc's wouldn't really believe that Peter was Spider-Man. They couldn't wrap their heads around Wade having a boyfriend, much less that boyfriend _being_ Spider-Man.

"He's real," Wade insisted, body slamming the rest of the table. "Madcaps just - ow, splinters - trying to pull one over on you guys."

"That's so believable I can't even believe it," Slapstick deadpanned.

"Oh, what would you know you animated American!"

"Was that another jab at my lack of a dick? I swear, if it was, you're about to lose yours in the next 5 seconds!" He withdrew a crazy amount of knives from the void of his pants, edging closer to Wade with a manic look in his eye.

Stingray slapped him upside the head, "Put those away! Geez, we can't go 5 minutes without you pulling something out of your pants."

"Well, at least these messages confirm that Madcap _is _back," Terror conceded, returning Fool Killer his phone. "So, I guess it wasn't all a lie. Still not believing the boyfriend part. But the maniac out to kill you, yeah, makes sense now."

"You guys are the worst," Wade groaned, pulling a long piece of wood out of his stomach.

"Bueno, nos llamaste jefe."

"Yeah, yeah, right back 'atcha Masacre." Wade fell back on the floor, arms and legs spread eagle wide. "So...will you guys help me?"

They all shared a long, insufferable look.

Terror shrugged, "Might as well. Madcap will probably come after us after he's done with _him _anyway."

"Yeah, probably." Solo sighed.

"Besides," Stingray added, kicking Wade's foot, "Someone's gotta keep him from blowing up the city."

"I don't know, an explosion of that magnitude would be a sight to behold," Slapstick grinned. When Terror made to slap him, Slapstick jumped away with a hissing, arching his back like a cat and swiping at him with newly conjured nubby-claws.

"We're in," Fool Killer concluded, and Wade jumped to his feet.

"Great. Wonderful. You guys are the best. Love and kisses all around. Mwah. Mwah. Now let's go save my boy!"

"Also, we're expecting 10 grand _each _when this is all over. 5 grand right at the door. We _are _mercenaries, after all."

"Ugh, you guys really are the worst. But you're all I got, so _fine. _Deal," He sashayed to the small box he stashed to the side and pulled out the trench coat and top-hat stored within. He pulled them on, ignoring the pieces of wood still protruding from his chest and abdomen. "And now we can all laugh and points fingers because Stingrays the only one who didn't dress like us! Sucker!"

"Oh, _fuck you, D_eadpool."

* * *

Meanwhile...

Peter was pissed.

Thing is, it took a lot to get him _super _pissed. He could get exasperated. Under the right circumstances, he could get annoyed _extremely _easy. But it took real talent to get him super, ultra, mega, alpha, insert-adjective-here, angry.

Which was where he was lingering at the moment.

No, it wasn't so much because he was attacked in his own home, cut and beaten, hung from a pipe, sedated, and driven off to some secondary location. If anything, that just made him annoyed. Things like this happened a lot, actually. Usually in some alleyway, and not his home, but whatever.

No, he was _pissed_ because the lunatic that did it was using him to blackmail his boyfriend. This oddly dressed, creepy-smiley lunatic clown was threatening _his _boyfriend, toying with Wade's head, and acting like it was all a game. The absolute _nerve_.

If it weren't for the gag Peter would be giving him a piece of his mind.

The lunatic clown, Madcap he had gone on to introduce himself as soon as Peter woke up, dropped Peter's phone with a snorting giggle. The Spider-Man plushie in his hand was getting twisted to a pulp as he laughed louder, and louder, and louder, before completely ripping off the head in outlandish glee.

Geez man, not the _Spidey _plushie_. Anything _but the Spidey plushie.

"Oh, what _fun _we're having," he clapped, hopping from foot to foot like an excited toddler. He whirled around and skipped over to Peter. "He's so riled up! What did you _do _to him, Spidey? Did you _actually _manage to brainwash him with that conscience of yours." He bopped Peter's head and laughed again.

Oh yeah, another thing that irked him. This guy knew he was Spider-Man. That definitely rubbed him the wrong way. Like sandpaper on a dick, as Wade would say. That information was usually kept close to the chest. The only way to get it from Peter was to pry it out of his cold, sticky hands. So how in the hell did _this _guy get it?

"I can't wait to keep playing. Ooh, we should have codenames or something. I'll be the Mad Capper. You...hmmm...what was it Deadpool calls you? Baby Boy?"

Peter glared at him. Only Wade was allowed to call him that. Nobody else!

"Well, Baby Boy," Madcap skipped across the room and picked up a box. Peter craned his neck to see what was inside, but thanks to the chair he was tied down to, it didn't get him very far. Normally, it'd be easy to bust out of his binds. But Madcap happened to be psychotic and had tied Peter down with a bunch of razor-wire. If he pushed against it, they just dug into his skin. Bloodied lines weren't already grafting into his arms and chest.

Unless he wanted to end up pieces, he needed to stay as still as possible. At least until he came up with a plan.

"I think it's time we played a little dress up. Gotta look good for your knight in shining armor!" He dropped the box at Peter's feet. Inside was a cheap-looking Spider-Man costume and a ball-gag. "I'm thinking something straightforward and simple, hmm?"

Peter grimaced.

He, officially, was both super pissed and unnerved.

Madcap grabbed the ball-gag and licked his lips behind the mask. "Shall we get started?"

Okay, make that creeped out and freaking out of his mind.

Wade, if you plan on helping him out. Make it soon.

Please.

**Oi, Madcap is a creep. **

**Hurry Wade. You and your Merc's need to get there ASAP. I hope I wrote the Merc's for Money right. It's my first time writing them, so I hope it went well. **

** We'll see you in the next chapter! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoops. So, my hand slipped and turns out there will be 4 chapters instead of 3. So expect one more chapter out of this before I wrap things up. :D**

**Also, now introducing another character! Machine Man/Aaron! A robot that looks and acts a lot like a human! He's fun! I like him. **

**For now, here's the next part!**

**WARNING: Chapter includes brief descriptions of self-harm, torture, and super creepy and gross behavior on Madcaps part. **

"Ugggh. How much longer? You're literally a robot, I thought tracing a measly phone call would be easy for you," Wade groaned, slamming his head against the rusty old table for the tenth time.

The figure on the desk, currently connecting himself to the computer, glanced scathingly over his shoulder as if just to look down his nose at Wade, before turning his back to him again. "Hey, my servers are fried enough as it is. The Merc's for Money and I just took a job for SHIELD against some weird electric dude and he zapped me too many times for it to be healthy. Even for a robot."

"Pfft," Wade said.

Right, the "actual" Merc's for Money. Because technically, Deadpool, Solo, Slapstick, Masacre, Stingray, and Terror couldn't hold that title anymore. Not since Domino completely stabbed him in the back and took control of the group without him knowing about it.

_Well, _given the fact that Wade's team disbanded before any of that, but that was beside the point. It still stung that she hadn't even talked to him before taking the name for herself. Masacre was on her team now, but Wade could overlook that. The guy was sweet and loyal and Wade didn't have it in him to be angry with him.

But the guy he was talking to now, Wade could still be mad at him. To any outside eyes, he looked like any other man. Comparatively unimpressive. He had a mound of black hair atop a normally indifferent face. Aside from the insufferable purple body-suit, he wore beneath a greenish-brown trench coat, he looked pretty normal. The only thing that suggested he wasn't another organic shmuck roaming the Earth were the lenses that made up his eyes. It was as his someone hand taken the glass part out of a pair of Arizona red sunglasses and hot-glued them to his eye sockets.

He used to go by Machine Man - kinda obvious, but whatevs - until he found himself a bit of humanity and decided that he needed a name.

"C'mon Aaron," Wade said, sitting back up in the chair. "I'm on a time-crunch here."

Aaron turned back around to scowl at him, "Well _excuse me_. I don't have to help you, you know. I'm only doing this as a favor," He focused on his computer screen once more, "Besides, aren't you gonna spill the beans on what this is for? You're usually not so reserved. Who's gotten on your blacklist?"

"I...can't tell you that," Wade said, toying with the gaggle of old broken tv parts on the table. "It's for a mission. Super top-secret. Really hush hush, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, yeah," Aaron waved flippantly at him. "The intel's gotta be tight to the chest. I get it."

Wade nodded, trying to pass off the lie in his throat as a cough. He _wished _it was for a mission. He'd take stealing a few legally binding papers over Peter getting kidnapped any day. Aaron's back was to him, but Wade still bit his tongue and slapped his hands over his mouth to resist the urge to spill the _real _reason he was asking for help. Aaron would be _pret-ty _useful in an upcoming fight if his systems weren't so fried.

But Wade wasn't going to push his luck.

Madcap had _barely _agreed to let him seek Aaron's expertise in tracking the call, and the only reason he _had_ agreed in the first place, was because he liked luring and determining Wade's movements like he was some kind of animal.

Besides, no one else on the team had the necessary skills to do such a thing. Stingray might've been able to with that nifty sea/air battle suit of his, but it'd take longer and time was of the essence.

Wade could still remember the conversation with Madcap like it'd been branded to his brain. Texting him made Wade feel all gross and skeevy inside, like he was plotting with some nefarious ex-lover behind Peter's back (which was ridiculous because a) Peter probably knew about it and was likely encouraging Wade trying to find him, and b) Madcap hadn't _actually _loved him -which, ew, barf much - and wanted to squeeze every last drop of pain from Wade's body).

Madcap warned him not to give details to anybody else, and Wade believed every last threat he made. If he sat there too long, Madcap was gonna assume he was conspiring with Aaron.

Wade's leg bounced crazily as he played more erratically with the spare parts, ever so often glancing at the clock in the wall. Humming a tune, he stifled the urge to lurk behind Aaron and prob him into moving faster. That'd only end in getting kicked out and left with nothing.

"Could you stop that?" Aaron demanded after a while, lurching around in his chair, "Ugh, you're driving me insane! I'm going as fast as I can, alright?"

"Alright, alright," Wade placated, using his hands to still his legs. Not that it'd do any good for very long. Sitting still wasn't very easy for him. Ever. Every second felt like a bunch of ants crawling under his skin. Or a bunch of centipedes. Definitely something with a lot of legs. Like a spider.

Like his spider, that was being held in Madcap's gross, slimy hands and was in danger of meeting his doom with every minute that Wade used, and _shit _what was taking so long? Was it getting hot in here? Why was he getting so dizzy? His bouncing returned feverishly, despite the best efforts of his hands to keep them down, and he took a deep breath.

Just as Aaron turned around again, another scathing remark on his lips, the phone Wade had given him dinged and Wade lunged across the table to grab it before Aaron got a good look at the message. The Merc's all agreed to stop texting Fool Killer after Wade had an anxiety attack every time the phone made a noise, and Fool Killer didn't have many friends outside their little coterie. Which meant the message could only be from one source.

_**(212)731-6520: What's taking so long? **_

_**c mon traking things taks time**_

_**If ur so eagr, y don t u just send me yur location**_

_**(212)731-6520: Because that takes all the fun out of it! **_

_**(212)731-6520: No what, I'm decided that you can't use Machine Man anymore. Go on back to our friends and figure something else out. **_

_**Whut that wasn t part of the deal **_

_**Dusn't that just mak it take longer **_

_**(212)731-6520: Shut up, the deal has changed. It's too easy with Machine Man. **_

_**(212)731-6520: You don't want me to hurt your little friend, do you? **_

Wade looked up at the ceiling, muttering long dark curses that would've made Shikla slap him upside the head, before returning to the phone.

_**Fine. **_

He shied away from Aaron's curious eyes as they tried to peep over his shoulder and slipped the phone back into his pouch. "Nevermind, A-A-ron," he said through gritted teeth. "Don't needya anymore."

Aaron's nose wrinkled, as he Wade had dangled a dirty diaper in his face. "What do you mean you don't need me anymore?" he demanded, following Wade to the door.

"I mean," Wade said gently, turning to cup Aaron's face, "I think it's time we see other people. This just," he placed his other hand on Aaron's chest, "isn't working for us anymore. People are dying, sweetie."

Aaron slapped his hands away. "No. Not that. What happened to being in such a hurry for this location?"

"Don't worry about it. Like you said, I'm in a hurry. You're taking so long so I'm just gonna scoot my caboot outta here and find a faster alternative. Kapeesh."

"Not kapeesh," Aaron blocked the doorway with his arms. "Why are you acting so fidgety? I know you think you some master of espionage, but I can tell something's wrong. What happened?" His eyes narrowed, "What'd you do this time?"

Wade scowled, planting his hands on his hips. "Why does everyone assume it's something _I _did. Why don't you ever assume that maybe someone _else _did the do, and I'm just trying to sort things out! Huh? Is it so hard to believe that I'm trying to be a better guy this time and that I'm not gonna allow the people I love to get hurt in the process? Now outta my way, I-Robot, unless you want to lose that arm."

Aaron stared at him for a long moment, eyes searching Wade's mask as if looking for some deeper, meaningful answer that Wade couldn't satisfy with words alone. A couple of seconds passed and he dropped his arm, allowing Wade to shoulder past him.

Just before he was out of ear reach, Wade heard him mutter, "People he loves?" before rounding the corner and running the rest of the way down the stairs.

* * *

"So, you're telling me that you didn't even get a location?" Fool Killer grumped, stuffing his mouth with a large scoop of noodles and vegetables.

"Madcap pulled me out of it before I could get it," Wade said, pacing a line around the mound of take-out piled on the floor and the mercs all sitting around it. "Says I was 'taking too long,' and that it's 'not fun' if he just tells me where to find him."

"Well, we tried. Guess it's time to go home," Slapstick said from inside the take-out box his mouth was buried in.

"And we're _still _trying," Wade growled, picking up his pacing. "Madcaps just as much of an impatient cookoo as I am. He'll try something soon. I'm just worried that he'll grow bored of having Peter along for the ride."

"Right," Terror said, in a way that made it sound like he totally _didn't _believe Wade.

How much longer did Wade have to go stewing in this tension. He already scouted the entire block earlier, and there had been no signs that Madcap was there. Nothing. Not so much as a drop of blood. Which was not normal for him. Madcap loved driving people crazy. Just by looking him in the eye, he could cause anybody to go absolutely bonkers for 15 - 90 minutes. More so, the more he does it. If he really did know that Peter was Spider-Man, the sheer destruction he could cause if he made Peter go cuckoo and unleashed him to the city.

Peter could claim he wouldn't hurt anyone all he wanted, but as long as Madcap was involved, that wasn't a promise he could keep. Nobody was immune to Madcaps powers, except maybe Wade himself. Peter wouldn't hold back while under Madcaps influence either. He'd go all out, 100% full spider ass-kicking power.

And as much as Wade would _love _to see that, he'd prefer it was of Peter's own will and not the will of a mad-man that wanted to cause Wade, and everyone he loved, pain and misery.

A large, meaty hand snapped him out of his imminent panic attack by pushing him down on the couch and shoving a carton of take-out in his hand. "Sentar. Comer. No harás nada con todo esto, amigo mío," Masacre said firmly.

Wade stared down at the delicious box of food and withered. "I can't eat when Peter's out there," he bemoaned. "I'm sick to my stomach, man. _Sick _to my _stomach._ I can't even enjoy kung pao chicken." He tossed the carton over his shoulder.

"HEY, WATCH IT!" Terror roared, throwing Wade's discarded food back at him.

"Tu novio imaginario estará bien. Necesitas comer." Masacre said, putting another carton in his hands.

"Just eat it, Deadpool," Solo said, glancing over the top of his magazine. "Masacre's not gonna leave you alone till you do."

Wade groaned loudly, but scooped up a large mound chicken, vegetables and peppers and pushed it against his mouth.

"I, too, tried eating through a mask once," Slapstick said, drooping over Wade's shoulder. "Didn't really go as planned."

"RAGH!" Wade jerked the mask up and stuffed his mouth full. "Ha'yee!"

"Very happy," Solo deadpanned, turning the page.

He took a few more bites before putting the carton on the table and jumping back to his feet. "Alright, carbo-load over. Now, let's scout out the rest of New York, Manhattan, and a little bit of Jersey - but not too much of that one, because, ugh, it's _Jersey. _I'm thinking, Stingray, you're gonna take the bay. Look for any underwater lairs. Underwater bunkers. Even underwater kingdoms. You can never be too sure when it comes to the big blue."

"What? I'm not swimming in the _bay! _Do you _know _how much pollutions in that water?"

"Terror, you take lower Manhattan. I'm sure there are a few limbs out there that might have some information we need."

"Uggggggh, hobo limbs are the _worst_."

"Slapstick-"

"Nooooooooooooooooooo-"

Wade stuffed a pile of napkins in his mouth. "Shut up and let me finish!"

"Deadpool!" Fool Killer snapped, turning him around roughly and shaking him by the shoulders. "Stop. Geez. It'll take forever to scout the city up and down. I think you just got a lot on your mind. As your reluctant therapist, I'm calling an emergency session."

"I thought _I _was the one who was supposed to call the emergency sessions!" Wade whined as he was pulled from the room.

Fool Killer sat him down on the cold, concrete steps outside the room, and took the step just below him, hands clasped as if they were about to conduct some shady business deal.

Wade slumped against the wall with his face in his hands, "Aren't you supposed to, like, have a clipboard to write on as I divulge all my emotional trauma on you?"

"I was rushed," Fool Killer said, "I left my clipboard at home. Let's just talk, okay. I know Madcap's return is really messing with you. He didn't exactly give you peace of mind last time, did he?"

"Cause I never gave _him_ peace of mind," Wade sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. "Ugh, this is all my fault, Fool.-"

"Please don't call me Fool."

"-_Alright_. I admit it. If I hadn't been so horrible to Madcap when he was stuck in my head this all wouldn't be happening. He wouldn't have had it out for me, to begin with! Why am I such a terrible person, Fool? _Why?"_

Fool Killer shrugged, taking his helmet off and setting it in front of him. "Look Deadpool, we've been on a lot of missions together. I've seen you at your...uh...well, don't know if it's your best, but your not-worst, _and_ I've seen you at your worst. I think this might exceed the worst, though. What's so different this time than last time?"

"_Because_," Wade emphasized, "I know he's willing to go at lengths to get back at me. He poisoned Ellie, Preston, and Shane _using _my body as a damn vessel. And now he's got Peter!"

"Right, right, Peter," Fool Killer muttered, hitting his fist against his head. "Sorry, forgot about that. Gotta remember these details."

"Yes, _Peter. _My very _real _boyfriend," Wade scowled, "And...and I don't get to see Ellie freely, Fool.-"

"That's still not my name."

"-I gotta get permission from Preston if I want to see her. But Peter...he sticks with me willingly. I get to see him _every day_. I don't want to lose that." He bonked his head against the wall, slowly tightening his arms around him. "He's the only one nowadays who even puts up with me. I mean, how did I get so lucky? How did he get so _unlucky? _Who'd even fall for me to begin with? Maybe he fell and hit his head and that's why he actually gives me the time of day."

"Hey," Fool Killer probed him with his finger, "C'mon, let's not think like that. I mean, sure, it's hard to imagine someone other than the _queen _of _monsters _willing to put up with you. And, sure, the fact that you have a boyfriend is really hard to swallow-"

"That's what he said."

"_-_and, _okay_, skivving off your merc buddies paychecks behind their backs is a major dick move-"

"You are a terrible therapist."

"-And it's not _completely _unreasonable that most people avoid you because you have a tendency to fly off the handle and attack people aggressively and violently-"

"Are you done yet?"

"_But_, " he held up a finger, "you do care. Just the fact that you're admitting to treating Madcap wrongfully shows that you're becoming more aware. And Peter, whetherhe'srealornot, obviously means a lot to you."

Wade sighed and nodded, "Yeah. He does."

"Then you just need to calm down and keep him in mind. We've got to save him from Madcap. Focus on him. We'll get him back, okay Wade. We're gonna stop Madcap before he hurts him."

"This sounds more like a pep talk than a therapist session."

Fool Killer threw his hands up in the air, "I'm trying here, okay. I have a hard time thinking of you in a client mindset. You've been a pain in my ass for so long it's hard not thinking of you in any other sense."

"Well," Wade banged his head against the wall a few more times, "You tried. Gold-star or whatever. 2 outta 5. I'll send you my Yelp review."

Fool Killer sighed but got up. "Yeah, alright. This could've gone better, I'll admit. But," he awkwardly put a hand on Wade's shoulder, smiling tightly, "Hang in there, okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Okay."

Fool Killer squeezed his shoulder and left. Disappearing back into the main room. Wade listened to the sound of Slapstick and Terror arguing over who got the last of the orange chicken, Stingray asking Fool Killer how his emergency session went, and Solo threatening to shoot them all in the head if they didn't shut up. He hugged his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth, humming a tune he didn't recognize.

He appreciated their help, even if he had a hard time spitting out the words. He didn't even care that they didn't believe in Peter. They answered his call when it was the last thing he would've done if he were in their position.

But that didn't help the anxiety tearing through his stomach, chest, and brain.

_Just keep Peter in mind, _Wade told himself, _Keep him in mind. Focus on him. We'll get him back. I'll bring him home. _

He took deep breathes to help sell the attitude until he didn't feel like ripping out his own heart. "Alright," he said, running a hand over his head, "We've got this. Pete's gonna be fine. Pete's gonna be fine. Pete's-" the phone in his pouch buzzed.

"_Hell,_" he simpered, taking it out. It was Madcap again. Of course. _Fuck_, his anxiety was sky-rocketing again. What did he want this time? What did he do? Wade slid the lock screen up and was met with a video.

"This can't be good." He looked up and down the stairs, peeped back into the other room to make sure none of the other merc's were gonna sneak up on him, and with trembling fingers he pushed play, already dreading what he might see.

"_Heeeeey Deadpool," _Madcap greeted on screen, grin so tight on his mask it made Wade want to tear it apart. "_I'd ask how you've been, but I don't really care. I just-" _he shook his head, hands on his hips that pinned a long, bloodied pipe to his side "_I feel like we've been bashing heads lately. I tell you to do something, you talk back, I tell you to do it, and you give me problems. I've gotta say, I quite enjoy it when you just listen and cooperate." _He sniggered, leaning against the pipe. "_Hey, you remember what you did to me whenever I talked back? How you," _he laughed again, snorting into his hand, "_how you'd rip me open and take out all my intestines, and wrap it around my neck like a necklace?" _He chortled and slapped his knee. "_A real tear-jerker huh? Or when you'd - hahahahaha - you'd cut out my fingernails and make me eat them? You're humor," _he wagged a finger at Wade, "_you're humor was always your finest quality." _

Yep, this definitely wasn't heading in a good direction.

Madcap finished laughing and twirled the pipe around as if it were cane and he was in a musical, "_I don't think my pictures are giving you the right attitude," _he continued airily, "_Maybe we should try something different. So, I thought, VIDEO! Why look at something when you can watch it on screen yourself! Sooooo," _he leaned forward and twirled the camera around.

Wade's eyes widened into saucers and he slapped a hand over his mouth. "Peter..."

Peter was dressed in a spider-man suit, sans the mask. It was obviously a cheap knock-off outfit that Wade could've bought at the dollar store, but that wasn't what drew his attention. Peter was back to hanging from the ceiling, with his arms bound high above his head and two large bags of, what looked like animal feed, keeping his legs weighted down. Wade couldn't tell if he was tied with razor wire, but the blood dripping from his wrists didn't give him much reassurance.

Peter looked wearily up at the camera, squinting through his swollen left eye. His face and neck were littered with large, blooming bruises, and in certain areas of the costume, it was a darker shade of red than it should've been. Finger-shaped bruises hung around his neck like a pearl necklace.

It looked as though someone had beaten him with a club, or a bat, or a-

Wade's eyes dropped to Madcaps bloodied pipe, mouth going dry.

The ball-gag in Peter's mouth kept him from saying anything, but his eyes said enough.

"_He's a funny one too, Wade." _Madcap said, strolling around Peter, dragging one finger from shoulder to shoulder, "_He kept talking back. So, I thought I'd take a page out of your book and teach him a lesson." _He dropped the bar at Peter's feet and Peter flinched. "_Lesson learned." _

Wade's eyes burned. He bit into his fist until he tasted blood and took the knife out of his boot and stabbed it into his thigh before he descended into a fiery rage and killed everything in sight. He took deep, rattling breathes that hung heavy in his lungs.

"_Look at this_," Madcap giggled, curling a hand around Peter's neck. "_What a sight, huh Deadpool? He's a feisty one. A good little fighter, even with a broken leg. Or, well, maybe a broken everything now. But still, I'm impressed_."

Peter glared at him in the corner of his eye and it made Wade want to cry harder. He's still fighting! Fuck learning a lesson, Peter wasn't beaten yet. Madcap ignored him, or didn't notice, and grabbed Peter's chin, forcing him to look back at Wade. _"Look at the camera, Spidey. Look at your __**hero. **__Gotta anything to say to him?" _

Peter's eyes fell back on the camera and his glare faltered for half a second. All it took was a look at those brown eyes and Wade's heart melted. Bubbling under his yearning for Peter and bleeding because he was in such pain.

_"Come on, Spidey. Give our hero some words of encouragement," _he squeezed Peter's jaw as if to force the words out of him, but all he earned was a wince. When nothing but spit made it past the ball-gag, Madcap laughed horrendously. "_Nothing to say, aye? Cat got your tongue? That piece of garbage not worth saying anything to." _

At that, Peter's eyebrows scrunched tightly and he mumbled something fiercely. Its translation was lost, but Wade had a feeling it had something more to do with Madcap, than him. Either way, Madcap laughed and let Peter's jaw go. Only to let to trail over Peter's split lip.

"_Hmm_," he hummed, lifting his finger to look at a spot of Peter's blood that stained his glove. "_You better hurry, Deadpool. The more time I spend with him, the more I see the appeal. He's such a_," he put his finger in his mouth, licking at the spot of blood, and smiling nastily. _"delicious little morsel." _

If Wade squeezed that phone any tighter he was going to break it. He took the knife and stabbed it into his other thigh.

"_If you don't hurry," _Madcap continued, reaching into the pouch on his waist and returning with a knife, that he trailed it over Peter's collarbone, up his neck, and settled over his jugular. The knife bit in to Peter's skin and a thin trail of blood ran down his neck. _"I might have a taste myself." _

In a nasty bout of aggression, Madcap grabbed a handful of Peter's hair, yanked his head back so his neck was exposed, and licked the line of blood up. Slow and leisurely, like he had all the time in the world. Peter made a loud noise of displeasure and squeezed his eyes shut, knuckles going bone-white.

Wade's breathing became heavier and his jaw clenched, teeth baring. Yep, Madcap was gonna die. Wade treated him like trash, yes. He shouldn't have done it, he couldn't agree more. But tormenting Peter like this? Not gonna happen.

Never in a million years.

Madcap met Wade's eyes through the camera, pushing off Peter as if he were nothing more than a piece of trash to him now. "_You'll know where to find me. One of our first locations in our previous game. Somewhere a beast like you will always belong. Until then, we'll see ya Poolie. Baby boy and I are gonna have a bit more fun." _He blew kisses to the screen just as the video stopped and turned black.

"_DAMMIT!" _Wade roared and threw it across the room. "MOTHERFUCKING, SHIT-FUCKFACE, SONOVA-" he punched the concrete wall, completely obliterating the bones in his hand, and stormed into the other room where the rest of the mercs were looking up in surprise.

"Get your asses up, I know where we need to go," Wade barked, "Madcap's gonna die. Death, I hope you can hear me, cause you're about to get the biggest bastard you're ever gonna see! Come on, guys, I'm not wasting anymore time. Grab your favorite toys, stuff your pants with rice, and let's go kill a bitch."

"HELL YEAH!" Slapstick screech, pulling a mallet seamlessly out of thin-air and smashed the remainder of their food. "LET'S GO RIP SOME BITCHES APART!"

"Where are we going?" Terror asked, sliding his gun into its holster.

"Central Park Zoo," Wade said, already out the door. "And in the mighty jungle, the lions fucking walking tonight!"

* * *

"He'll be here soon!" Madcap sang, spinning on his heels and knocking over the video camera. "And you played your part so wonderfully," he pinched Peter's cheeks, making cooing noises at him, "A real feisty damsel. I think the bruises really add to the effect."

Peter never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

Okay, the guy who killed Uncle Ben still took the cake, but Madcap was really pushing the boundary.

Madcap kicked the pipe away and Peter flinched, absolutely hating himself for it. Getting beaten on wasn't exactly new, but it never failed to unnerve him when his assailant laughed at him while he was getting pulverized to a pulp. Madcap was reminding him a little too much of Green Goblin and that was a bushel of memories he'd rather not confront today.

"Now, on to part 2," Madcap grabbed a pair of wire cutters from the box stored away in the corner and snipped Peter's arms loose. Peter instantly sagged onto the floor, falling against the bags that kept him down, and stumbling a little to the side. He took a second to blink at his free hands in surprise, before lurching to his feet, and punching Madcap into the wall.

Not giving him a moment to recover, he sprinted forward, ignoring the bags still tied to his ankles, and slammed Madcap back against the wall, curling a hand over his throat and propping him up off the ground. His ribs burned from the beating they took and his arms ached from being held up for so long, but the adrenaline fueling his distaste for this man made all of that easy to forget.

"Oooh," Madcap laughed around Peter's hand, the sound gurgled and strained, but no less authentic. "Someone looks mad," he rasped. "Don't mind me, itsy bitsy spider. Feel free to leave. Door's right over there. You've been to the zoo before, haven't you? You know your way out. But, before you go," he pulled his mask off, flinging it to the side, to reveal a grotesqeue face that leered down at Peter. "Not the worse you've seen, I bet. Deadpool's face is absolutely horrendous, yet you still kiss him."

"Not to be a complete stalker, but I've been watching you two for a while now. I've always thought Deadpool was the crazy one, but _you_," he tapped Peter's forehead, "You must be insane for dating that shit pile."

Peter tightened his grip on Madcap's throat. "Shut. Up."

"Yes, yes," he wheezed, completely undeterred, "I get it. But before you go," faster than Peter thought he could move, Madcap grabbed the back of his head and leaned him forward so they were looking eye-to-eye. It was so close, Peter thought he was gonna make him kiss him. Instead, Madcap said, "Just look into my eyes."

Peter did. Or he already was. Honestly, he didn't have much choice in the matter.

And now that he was looking, he...couldn't...seem...to...look away...

His grip on Madcap tightened, no so much to hurt him, but because he couldn't seem to let go. He kinda...didn't want to let go. It looked like there was something Madcap wanted to tell him. Something he _needed _to listen to.

The lunatic grinned wider.

"Good boy," Madcap grinned, keeping Peter's head steady, "Now, listen very closely..."

**Whoop-de-doo-da! Chapter 3. As I said, there will be 4 chapters now. So, see you all then! :D **

**Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! I'm glad you're all enjoying the story! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Final chapter! Whoop whoop! Thank you, everyone, who left kudos and comments! I'm really glad you guys liked it! **

There have been many times in Wade's life when he was told he belonged in a zoo. By Wolverine. A few of his Avenger pals. Cable, once. Countless villains and mercs who had it out for his head. Basically, too many people to count. Even before, in his Special Services times, he was told to surrender himself to the iron bars of a cage.

Maybe it was his inner tree-hugger yearning for the animals to be set free, or because the last time he was in a zoo, he was attacked by a bunch of manipulated zoo employee's and given a virus that he would later spread to anyone he came in contact with, but he wasn't really fond of the idea of putting living creature in cages to be displayed to a bunch of snot-nosed kids and their puffy parents. See, imprisonment and being treated like a spectacle wasn't really his _thing. _

Yes, Weapon X was _so _fun. Thanks for asking.

The place was empty when they got there. Granted, it was also 11 o'clock at night. But, usually, there'd be at _least _two people present. A security guard or late night staff worker, at least, to make sure the animals were cared for. The entrance had been baringly empty when they arrived, and aside from the few off glances from animals when their sleep was disturbed, the entire facility was deserted.

"This isn't creepy at all," Slapstick said, taking long, dramatic steps across the ground. Wade tried not to play the Pink Panther theme song in his head as they stalked around display after display.

"Zoos are always creepy after- hours," Fool Killer whispered, sliding along the wall of one of the cages, gun in hand, as he peered around the bend. "All clear this way."

Wade whipped around the bend, his own weapon aimed, and cautiously continued on. "There are always certain places creepy looking in the dark. Zoo's, schools, the kid play-pens in the shopping mall. It's mandatory. Anything sweet and cute is automatically terrifying in the dark."

Slapstick perked up, as if a thought crossed his mind, "Like me?"

"You," Solo said, "are always creepy."

"Las muñecas siempre han sido la encarnación del diablo," Masacre put in with a serious nod.

"Are you calling me creepy too, Masacre?" Slapstick slapped a hand over his chest, recoiling as if he'd been threatened with mutilation.

Masacre sighed, griping his katanna tightly. "Yo no dije eso. Pero tal vez lo sabrías si te molestaras en aprender español."

"Was that offensive? I feel like that was offensive."

"Amplía tu mente y aprende un nuevo idioma. Los ingleses que hablan inglés no se dan cuenta de lo fácil que es tenerlo cuando se trata de comunicarse en este lugar. Al menos en México mis amenazas fueron entendidas."

Solo, Fool Killer, Terror, Stingray, and Slapstick stared at him.

"Er...okay...," Fool Killer shrugged.

"Si no disfrutara de tu compañía, te mataría a todos."

"Hush, kids," Wade said over his shoulder. "If I hear any more arguing I'll turn this mission of death right around. Don't tempt me."

As good as an old fashionable squabble was, there just wasn't time for any of that now. Every second he was in this place made his insides feel antsier and antsier. He much preferred when he was doing the hunting. Not being the prey lured into a trap.

"Keep an eye out for Peter," he added.

"I would _love_ to," Solo grumbled, twirling his gun hand from hand, "But I don't exactly know what he looks like, so it makes the 'looking' for him part rather difficult."

Wade rolled his eyes, "Believe me, you'll know if when you see him. He has this brown, fluffy hair that makes you want to run your fingers through it, and beautiful brown eyes that you can get lost in for hours. He really likes pretzels and slushies, so if he escaped, it's not impossible that he went there for a little recovery first."

"Right. Because pretzels make all traumatic experience better," Fool Killer said.

"Exactly! You know, why don't you check the snack-bars and vending carts," Wade grinned, turning to give him a thumbs up, "Take Terror with you. And maybe bring me back some popcorn while you're at it."

Terror crossed his arms, scowling at him through the dark shades of his glasses. It was dark out, so he hardly needed him, but Wade supposed when you had only one eye that you could pop in and out at random, lighting didn't necessarily matter. "We're not going on a snack run," he said, "If Madcap is here, we should focus on finding him and, _you know_, putting a stop to him. Besides, even if your little boyfriend _is_ real, I doubt he would've escaped Madcap only to stop for slushies."

"And pretzels," Slapstick added helpfully.

Wade shook his head from side to side, not unlike a wet dog shaking water off its fur. "Right, right. Focus. Gotta stay focused. Petey's counting on me. Alright," he clapped his hands over his cheeks a few times as if to wake himself up, "Madcap is totally bonkers psycho, so he'll probably have Peter somewhere dangerous. Like dangling over a lion's den. Or trapped with the penguins, or-"

"Walking right up to us?" Stingray said.

"That's a bit of a stretch," Wade huffed, hands on his hips. "Like Madcap would let him go, just like that."

"Wade," Stingray grabbed his shoulders and twisted him around, "_Look_."

A figure was striding toward them, emerging out of the late-night gloom like some phantom. Their gait was stiff and uneven, arms dangling at their side, and was wearing a cheap-looking Spider-Man costume. Wade nearly dropped his gun, "_Peter!" _He gasped, shooting forward, "Holy shit, is that really you?"

"Deadpool, wait-" Solo grabbed his wrist and pulled him back. "Something doesn't feel right."

Every ounce of Wade wanted to tear Solo off and run to his boyfriend, but now that it was brought to his attention, Solo was right. Just like the feeling he had before he walked into his apartment, something felt off. Peter was never this quiet, even while in pain He looked so stiff, like every step hurt him. He really shouldn't be on his leg without a crutch, what the fuck was he doing? And, yeah, Wade was seeing it now. Something definitely wasn't fine and dandy here.

"He better not have done," Wade mumbled, "That fucker better not have done it."

"Wait, does this mean Deadpool was telling the truth?" Slapstick demanded incredulously, mallet dropping a few inches. "Does he _actually _have a boyfriend?"

"Now is _not _the time, Slapstick," Stingray growled, pulling his fists to his chest and squaring his stance.

"C'mon, it's a valid question!"

"Valid or not, keep our mission in mind," Stingray said. "We'll settle the boyfriend debate later."

Terror cocked his head to the side. He glanced over Stingray's defensive form and laughed, "What are you all getting worked up for. It's _one _guy. It's not like he's that much of a threat. We can take him easily."

Wade winced, quickly drawing his katana's, spinning them around and flexing his wrists to warm them up. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Wounded or not, a fight was coming. "I wouldn't be too sure about that, Terror."

Slowly, take a small step forward with his swords poised in front of him, Wade approached Peter. "Hey, Baby Boy," he said, "How's it going? Please tell me you're coming over here to give me a hug and a kiss, and not to rip my head off."

Peter said something under his breath and Wade stopped, inclining an ear. "What was that?"

He said it again.

"A little louder, Petey. Can't hear you."

Then, like a cold knife dragging into his skin, he heard a soft, almost gentle, "Boop." Peter tilted his head, almost innocently, though his stride didn't lessen. "Boop. Boop. Boop."

Wade took a rattling breath, flexing his fingers around the katana's handle. "Peter," he whispered, voice breaking. "Please don't...tell me he didn't..._please_, I know this is a horrible time, but please be joking Baby Boy."

"Boop. Boop. Boop. Boop."

The word felt like acid dripping into Wade's brain and down his spine. He shuddered a deep, bone-rattling shudder that felt like a heavy, wet blanket draping over his shoulders. He was going to cut out Madcaps tongue for making Peter say that damn word. He was going to cut out the tongues of anyone who ever said again.

"_Damn you, _Madcap!"

A laugh came nearby and Wade whirled around, blades centering on Madcap, who was leaning against the railing to the lion exhibit. His arms and legs were crossed, head angled inquisitively at Wade. He was at leisure. Standing there casually, like he wasn't about to get his innards cut to pieces.

"We're both damned, Deadpool," he said, tilting his hat in greeting to him, "I'm just having a little fun with mine."

"Take him out of it," Wade warned, stalking forward. "Stop messing with his mind, or so help me!"

Madcap held his hands up, "I can't. There's nothing I can do about now. We've got to wait for it to wear off. So," he put his hands down, in his lap like he was putting them in pockets, "might as well enjoy the show, amirite?"

Wade roared at him, sprinting forward, but a snag on his back pulled him back and he rolled across the ground, losing his swords in the process. Shit, he didn't even notice Peter sneaking up on him. Peter hobbled toward him now, fist clenching, body tense. His voice was getting louder, more aggressive, "Boop. Boop. Boop! Boop!"

"I fucking hate that word," Wade snarled, jumping to his feet. He held his hands out in front of him as if to stop Peter's ascent. "Hey, listen to me, Peter. Come on, your stronger than this. You're stronger than _him_. Fight it off!"

"Boop! Boop! Boop! Boop!"

"So help me, Parker, you're gonna hate yourself if you hurt anyone."

"Tenemos tu espalda, jefe," Masacre stated, appearing at his side with Wade's swords in hand. He handed them off to Wade, who took them gratefully.

"This is why you're my favorite, Masacre," he said.

"Rude," Slapstick muttered, appearing on his other side.

Stingray clapped Wade's shoulder, "We'll take care of your bonker-crazy boyfriend. Go get Madcap."

Wade shifted in his feet. That was the _last _thing he wanted to do, but he knew they were right. Madcap needed to be stopped and Wade was the best-suited one to do the stopping. Couldn't be killed. Couldn't be possessed by Madcaps freaky power. But that didn't mean he wanted to leave Peter. Peter needed him now more than ever.

He hated how Stingray was usually right.

"Alright," he said, "But you guys be careful. Don't underestimate him. And, under no circumstances, are you allowed to hurt or kill him. You do and I kill you."

"Fair nuff'," Terror shrugged, pulling out a knife, "How do you feel about a little light maiming."

Wade shot him the stink eye. "Do. Not. Hurt. Him. Or. I. Kill. You." And with that, he sprinted for Madcap.

Peter let out a loud, enraged "BOOP!" and lunged at him, but before he could make contact, Slapstick sailed by and tackled him.

"Careful," Wade warned as they rolled across the ground, but didn't look over his shoulder. He had eyes for Madcap and only him right now. It was about time this fucker got what's coming to him.

Madcap opened his arms as if to embrace Wade. Good. He could fucking embrace this. Wade spun out with the swords, cutting one of Madcaps hands off in one go, and would've got to the next if he hadn't moved.

"Oh, what a pity," Madcap sighed, looking down at his severed hand. "And I liked that one so much."

Damn it, not even cutting him was satisfying. He couldn't even feel the pain. What was the point if there wasn't a little bit of screaming involved? It only proved to make Wade madder. He needed Madcap to scream, to hurt, to regret what he did to Peter. None of this laughing and shrugging it off shit.

"You're going to die," Wade snarled, kicking Madcap back so he slammed into the railing, before shoving his katana through his stomach till the hilt touched the fabric of his costume. Madcap laughed and grabbed Wade's wrist, twisted it so it broke and Wade dropped the sword, before spinning him around so Wade's back was to him. Linking an arm around Wade's neck, Madcap pulled him close, just a neck-snap away from death.

"Promises, promises," he cooed. "Look at you so fired up. It's amazing."

"Fired up as the Human Torch," Wade grunted, jamming his elbow into Madcap side so hard it cracked his ribs. Tearing the arm away from his neck, he turned and delivered a hard punch to Madcap's jaw that made him teeter to the side.

The noise of battle at his back drew his attention and he glanced over his shoulder. The Mercs for Money were going at Peter, but it looked like they were having a harder time than they thought. Like Wade guessed, Peter wasn't pulling his punches. Thankfully, it took a hard hit to Slapsticks back, that would've snapped a normal man's spine, to get the message across to the rests of the mercs and they kept their distance. Surrounding him, but taking more cautious attacks.

"Fuck, Deadpool never said he was super-powered!" Terror roared, desperately blocking hit after hit from Peter, who, even with his cast, was making excellent ground on him. Peter feigned to the left, before switching right and grabbing Terror's rotting arm and completely ripping it from his body. With it, he batted Slapstick away like he was striking a home run, and threw the spurting, bloodied appendage into Stingray's face, who shrieked and careened from the sky and hit the gift shop across the path.

"C'mon guys, we're getting our asses handed to us by a cripple! He's got a damn broken leg, _come on_." Solo shouted.

"By all means," Slapstick snapped back, straightening his spine, "Have a go at him! I'd love to see your lungs collapse. You know, which is exactly what's going to happen if he punches you!"

Wade shook his head, but turned away, forcing himself to focus on _his _mission. They were just lucky Peter didn't have his web-shooters. THey'd all be pinned to the ground by now if he did.

Madcap was back on his feet, barely pulling Wade's katana out of his mid-section by the time Wade turned around. He rotated it in his hand, balancing the weight. "I remember all the things you used to do to me with these swords," he hummed, "Didn't you gouge my eyes one time? Ah, memories."

"Look," Wade said, squaring himself with the other sword in hand, "I'm sorry, okay." Madcap cocked his head to the side, curiously inclined, and somewhat surprised, "I shouldn't have done any of that to you. As fucked up and weird as you are, you didn't deserve that kind of treatment. I'm...I'm sorry..."

"D'awww," Madcap cooed, "That's so sweet. I suppose this is the part where I forgive you for what you've done and call off your little boyfriend."

"Well...," Wade bobbed his head, rolling his shoulders, "yeah, that'd be nice," he admitted.

Madcap hummed, stroking his chin as if thinking it over. "Hmmm..._nah_," he decided, "See, I couldn't call off your boy-toy even if I wanted to. Besides," he lunged forward, arching the sword over Wade's head. Wade brought his own sword up and stopped the blow from connecting. Madcap snarled at him, "I _don't _forgive you."

Wade pushed him off and swung at his mid-section. Madcap danced away and jabbed at him again. It was easy to out maneuver him, though, given that Wade was the superior swordsman. He grabbed Madcaps arm, holding it back while pulling his katana up to the lunatic's throat. "Just stop this, Madcap. I'm the one you want to hurt so badly. Hurt me all you want, but I'll be damned if I let you hurt my family."

"The sentiment is cute," Madcap said, pushing against him, "But not really you. I would've never pegged you as a family man. Or the type to settle in a _relationship_."

"I'm putting an end to this," Wade growled in his face, digging the blade farther into Madcap's neck, "And you're never going to go after my family, or Peter, ever again."

Madcap stared him in the eye, grinning broadly, "Exactly," he said and rammed his head into Wade's nose. The crack was instant. Blood gushed down his lips and soaked into the mask. Through the sharp pain, Madcap wiggled out of his grip, flung Wade around, and cut his arm off. One strong swipe upward through his armpit and the appendage was gone, flopping on the ground.

Wade screamed, a mixture of fury and pain - more _fury_ than _pain_ \- just as the sword came down again and sliced off his other arm. Not missing a beat, Madcap crammed the sword through Wade's back, pushing it so far in, a decent amount of the blade protruded out from Wade's mid-section.

"I've been practicing that for so long," Madcap laughed in his ear, "It takes a lot to slice through an arm, you know."

"Fucker," Wade gurgled out, choking on the blood welling in his throat.

"Now," Madcap said, hefting Wade's body up, "as you said, let's put a stop to this. You're right. You _are _the one I want to hurt the most. But you've been killed, mutilated, and tortured so much, it's probably lost its appeal to you, hasn't it? No, you're immune to physical pain, Wade Wilson. But not emotional pain. Which is why this next part is going to be so much fun."

"Hey, Spidey," Madcap called, and Peter looked over from where he was choking Stingray, "I think it's time. C'mere, would ya?"

Peter tossed Stingray aside, throwing him into the seal exhibit below, where he landed with a splash. Terror was on the ground, having had his legs and arms torn off, Slapstick was walking around dizzily with his face smashed in, Solo was slumped against a trash can nursing what looked like a broken arm and an injured ankle, while Masacre was weakly picking his way out of the demolished gift shop he'd been thrown into.

"That's a good boy," Madcap encouraged. To Wade, he said, "He listens so well. And what a fighter. I've got to say, even with a broken leg, he's a sight to behold. Must be real nice to have someone tolerant of pain."

Wade grunted, trying to pull himself off the sword, but with Madcap's snubbed arm slung around his chest, pinning him from behind, it wasn't getting him anywhere. "What...what are you doing?" He burbled despondently.

Madcap shushed him, "Just watch."

Peter was limping heavier now, almost on the verge of falling over. He was probably in so much pain. But nothing, not even a broken leg, could pull him from Madcap's influence. He was hurting himself, uncaring that he was only making his leg worse. When he was closer, Madcap pushed them both forward, as if to meet him in the middle.

"Why don't you come give your boyfriend a hug," Madcap suggested, edging Wade closer. "Maybe even a kiss while you're at it."

Peter nodded dazedly, giving him an approving "Boop," even though his eyes were pinned to Wade.

"I thought you said you couldn't tell him what to do?" Wade growled, thrashing some more.

"Nuh-uh. I said I can't pull him out of it. I never said he wasn't open to suggestion. Now, shut up and give him a hug," Madcap pushed the sword further into his back.

Wade looked down at the protruding tip, mouth so full of blood it was suffocating. He looked back up to Peter, who was coming straight at him, then at the sword again. The realization sunk it farther than the sword ever could. "N - no. NO! Madcap, stop this!" He thrashed and flailed, trying desperately to pull himself off of the weapon, "NO! St-stop!"

"Now why would I do that?" Madcap giggled, "Weren't you the one spouting about how much you loved him? C'mon, show him some love. Just a hug and I'll let you go. Both of you."

If Peter hugged him, he'd only be impaling himself on the sword. With his arms around Wade, he'd puncture his own body and bleed out. Madcap didn't need to kill Peter directly, he was leading Peter to his own suicide.

"Madcap, _please_. Don't do this! Not to him! Please, I'll do whatever you want."

"It's too late for that, Deadpool," Madcap snarled in his ear, twisting the sword in Wade's gut. "Your right. I'm never gonna go after Peter again. After tonight, there won't be a person to go after."

Peter was close enough to touch now. He was repeating Madcap's word softy, "Boop, boop, boop," almost in a whisper. His fingers skid along Wade's sides, wrapping around him with the utmost care. He was getting closer, and closer, till the tip of the sword poked against his belly.

"Dammit, Madcap!" Wade roared, eyes burning, "_Please!_"

Peter kept going. The very tip of the sword sunk in, but he continued to move.

"PETER! STOP!" Wade begged. "No! Baby boy, come on! Stop!"

"Boop. Boop. Boop."

"Say good-bye, Wade Wilson," Madcap whispered.

Wade looked at Peter, knowing that behind that cheap plastic lenses, he was never going to see those brown eyes bright and alive again. Never wake up with him asleep at his side. Never gonna make him pancakes and watch cartoons. Never gonna patrol together from dusk till dawn.

He failed Peter. Utterly. Completely. Miserably.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping Peter heard him.

Then, quite suddenly, Peter stopped. Wade would've liked to think it was because he finally penetrated Madcaps crazy influence, but that wasn't quite the case. A robotic hand wrapped around Peter's torso and pulled him away from Wade, looping around him several times further to stop his flailing.

Wade laughed, a breathy, watery laugh born more out of relief that humor as he looked over the brown-trench coated and purple-body suited figure, "You son of a bitch, I _love _you," Wade exclaimed.

"Need a hand?" Aaron asked, with a grin. He looked down at Wade's severed arms and grimaced, "Or, an arm perhaps?"

Madcap made a furious noise and shoved Wade off the sword, making him face-plant into the cement. "_What? _We were so close!" He shouted, gripping the katana in both hands, "Why'd you have to come mess everything up?"

Aaron shrugged, quickly dodging a kick from Peter's good leg. "Guess I just have good timing."

"Damn right you do," Wade agreed into the sidewalk.

Madcap stalked forward, murder in his eyes, but jerked back as a shot went off through his shoulder, followed by another in the opposite shoulder, and two in his kneecaps. He stumbled to the ground, katana slipping from his fingers.

"Alright Madcap, you can just stop right there," a new voice said, as a figure walked up from behind Aaron.

Wade flipped himself over so he was on his back and craned his neck, "Domino? Dom? Is that you?"

"Here to clean up another one of your messes," she said, gun aimed at Madcap's chest, "Yeah. Don't act so surprised."

The tree nearest to Wade rustled as a monkey dressed in a suit and tie jumped down, landing on his stomach. It shoved a gun in his face, baring its teeth. Another person lumbered out too, big and hairy and very much a gorilla. He plucked Hit Monkey off Wade's chest.

"Hey, we're here to rescue him. Not blow his brains out," he rumbled.

"And hello to you too, Hit Monkey. Gorilla-Man" Wade said, "Normally the idea of blowing would excite me, but in this case, I'll pass," He looked past the primates, "How'd you guys find me?"

Aaron bobbed his head sheepishly, "I...admit, I might've slipped a tracker on you while you were at my place. You were acting so weird, I figured there was bound to be trouble where ever you were going."

"And it's a good thing he did," Domino said, "What the hell is going on here, Wade?"

Wade inclined his head toward Madcap, "Ask him. He's the one with the revenge vendetta."

They all focused on Madcap, who was seething on the ground. "You ruined everything," he screamed at them, "I almost had him. I almost won! Why the fuck would you interfere? Why the hell do you care about what happens to him?"

"Eh, not sure," Negasonic Teenage Warhead piped up, leaning against the trashcan Solo was still propped against. "But he's entertaining, so why not?"

"D'awww," Wade cooed. "That warms all my insides."

"No," Madcap said, "It won't end like this. I will not let him walk free again. KILL THEM!" He screamed, "KILL THEM ALL!"

"Who are you talking to?" Aaron started to say, just as he got a mouthful of Peter's foot. Using the advantage, Peter tore the arms off of him and landed back on the ground. He landed heavily on his casted leg and stumbled, but no sound came out. Breathing heavy, almost erratic, he grabbed Aaron by his trench coat and threw him right into Negasonic, and they fell over in a pile on Solo.

Peter looked at Domino and limped forward fist clenching.

"Domino, don't' hurt him!" Wade said, trying to sit up.

"Don't worry," Domino muttered, waving Hit Monkey and Gorilla-Man off as Peter advanced. "I won't." With every step he took forward she took one back. He couldn't get far on his bad leg, probably having reached his limits already. His breathing began to slow as he backed her up into a wall, movements getting sluggish and tired.

He was a foot away, hands reaching for her neck when he stopped. "Where..." he breathed, looking around dazedly, "What...where am I?" Not a second later, he tittered forward, making a harsh noise of pain when he put weight on his leg.

Domino caught him before he hit the ground, taking the majority of his body-weight. "Don't worry," she told him, grinning, "You're safe now." To Wade, she yelled, "Madcap's influence wore off, but I think we need to get him to a hospital."

"Oh, blessed luck," Wade cried, sagging back on the ground. "Holy shit, that was close."

"NO!" Madcap screamed, tearing at his head, "NO! NO! NO! NO!"

"Oh, shut up," Aaron grumbled, wrapping his metal arms tightly around Madcap, shoving a hand over his mouth. Madcap jerked and swung himself around, trying to break free, but it did him no good. His eyes bore into Wade's, burning with hate and loathing.

Honestly, Wade didn't think that would ever go away.

Domino handed Peter off to Gorilla Man, who carried him bridal style to keep him off his leg, and walked over to Wade. She sat him up, eyebrows quirked, "You owe me," she said.

"What's new," Wade laughed, leaning into her as she lugged him to his feet and hobbled him to a bench. "Wana grab my arms? I think there's still time to reattach them. I _really _don't want to regrow them again."

Domino pinched her nose, lips turned down in disgust but grabbed them nonetheless. She helped him put them back on and used her ammo belts to keep them there until they reattached themselves. Once finished, she sat on the bench with him, legs spread out, and head tilted back, looking up.

"Hey," Wade said, looking up with her, "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Come help me? You didn't need to, but you did."

Domino glanced at him fleetingly, "Like I said before. Merc blood runs deep. You may be a pain the ass Wade, but we've known each other a while. Whether your still a mercenary or not, I'm not gonna let you get skinned alive by that weirdo," she jabbed her thumb towards Madcap. "Besides, now you owe me a favor."

"I think I owe you more than that," Wade laughed. "But thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

"Yeah, yeah," she punched his shoulder, almost detaching it again. She looked over at Gorilla Man, who had Peter laid out on the gross, who was assisting Aaron in determining just how bad his injuries were. "Hey. Who's that?" she nodded at Peter. "And why's he dressed like a cheap Spider-Man knock-off?"

"He's uh..." Wade blew out a breath, tapping his foot, "He's a friend."

"Just a friend," she said, completely unconvinced, "Madcap, what? Kidnapped him and made him go crazy and almost kill himself hugging you just because he's your _friend_. I call bullshit."

"Hey, I have friends," Wade huffed, "Good friends."

"Oh, _good friends_," she smirked, "How good of friends _are _you?"

Wade opened his mouth, closed it again, and sat back on the bench. "Shaddup, Dom."

She laughed, "Don't worry, I get why you want it discrete. I won't tell anyone Deadpool found himself a boy-toy."

"He's not a boy-toy," Wade muttered, "he's my boyfriend. And I'd very much appreciate a little discretion."

"Alright, alright," she brushed him off and stood back up, "Well, we should probably get him to a hospital or something. That leg of his looks bad."

Peter would definitely not agree to that. Whether or not he was in a cheap costume, he was paranoid as fuck and wouldn't let Wade drag him a mile to the nearest hospital. No, he better just drive them by Tony's and get a personal check-up from one of his doctor-friends.

"No," Wade got to his feet too, moving his arms slightly. They were still a little stiff and numb, but he could use them at least, "I don't think a hospital is the best idea. But I've got a place we can go. Thanks again, Dom. If you ever need a sexy piece of cancer, just call me up."

Domino rolled her eyes and holstered her gun, "Yeah. Sure. And don't worry about Madcap. We'll drop him off at SHIELD," she strode away from him, shouting, "Alright Mercs, we're done here. Load up and let's head home."

"What about him?" Gorilla-Man asked, gesturing to Peter.

"Don't worry. Deadpools handling it."

Gorilla-Man looked back down at Peter, lips pinched tightly together. Obviously, the idea of leaving him in Wade's care wasn't very appealing. But he got up and followed after Domino. "Try not to kill him," he said to Wade over his shoulder.

Aaron quickly brushed off his pants and made lee-way to follow, but Wade clapped him on the shoulder and stopped his escape, "So, you put a tracker on me, eh?"

Aaron rubbed his neck, "...yeah. I know how you feel about that kinda thing, but I couldn't just - you were..." he sighed, hanging his head.

"Eloquently said," Wade mused, but brought him in for a one-sided hug, "I was just saying thank, man. Don't get your metal boxers in a bunch. Just," he separated and held Aaron at arms-length, "don't make it a habit of tracking me, kay? I'm not usually so nice about it."

"Yeah, I gotcha," Aaron sighed, "Well, I'm gonna go. And hey," he gestured to the bodies of the original Mercs for Money, who was still laying on the ground. Stingray had pulled himself from the seal exhibit and was dripping water on the bench he had collapsed on, "You might wanna make sure they're okay. Looks like they took quite the beating from your - mutate? mutant? - friend."

"Mutate," Wade said, "but, uh, just keep him a secret for me, would ya? I don't need anymore Madcap's coming at me."

"Lips are sealed," Aaron agreed. "Stay out of trouble, Wade."

"Only if trouble will stay outta me," Wade retorted, and grimaced, "Alright, that sounded worse than I thought it would. Forget I said that."

"Already did."

As Aaron followed his team, Wade hurried to Peter's side, who was staring up into the canopy of leaves. When Wade approached he jerked up, arms raising as if prepared to fight someone off, only to relax.

"Wade," he breathed, slumping back down. Wade sat next to him, pulling Peter gently up in his arms.

"Hey," he said, hugging Peter to his chest, careful of his leg. "I know it's been a long day, but we need to head on out of here, Petey. Get your leg looked at."

Peter reached up and took the Spider-Man mask off, flinging it to the side as if disgusted by it. "What the hell was that about, Wade?" He groaned, shifting better to get comfortable. "That - that _manic _showed up out of nowhere. You barely even left when he busted the door down. I-"

"Hey," Wade shushed him, "I know. I'm - I'm so sorry, Peter. If I had known he was back, I never would've left you like that. I promise. I -" He buried his face into Peter's hair, swallowing roughly around the block in his throat, "I'm _so sorry_. I brought you into this mess. You almost _died _because of me. I'm the worse boyfriend, I know. I can't believe I almost-"

"Whoa," Peter said, moving his head away so he could look up at Wade, "Hey, this wasn't your fault."

"Of course it is. I'm the one that hurt _him. _I drove him to doing this."

"Wade, that guy was literally a lunatic."

"_I'm _a lunatic."

"Not that like."

"Peter," Wade bit his lip and sniffed, "I don't know what I would've done if you died."

Peter's finger grazed Wade's chin, "And you didn't. I'm right here. I little banged up, I'll admit. But not dead! That's good, right?"

Wade laughed roughly, "Yeah. That's good. The best"

"Alright. We'll figure the rest of this out later. Right now, I think I _really _need some meds cause my leg is _killing _me," he grimaced, casting a deep, pinched look of pain at his leg.

"Right. Let's get that fixed up." Wade got to his feet and carefully helped Peter up too. They walked a few steps before Wade decided that he couldn't stand seeing Peter grunt in pain, and picked him up bridal style.

"Wade-"

"Just hold still, Petey. I'm not letting Spider-Man lose a leg."

Peter stared at him long and hard, before huffing. "Fair nuff'," and settled into Wade's arms. But, honestly, Wade figured it was because he was tired. On their way, they passed the rest of the mercs.

"Good job guys," Wade chirped, watching them all groan and weakly get to their feet. "Mission accomplished!"

Terror glared at him from the ground. "Would someone _please _get me a pair of legs so I can kick his ass?"

Slapstick groaned, leaning against his giant mallet, "I don't think your boyfriend likes me."

Peter stared at them, stuck between confusion and guilt, "Did - did I do that?"

"If you mean, did you kick their ass in all your one-legged, than yes, you did," Wade said.

"You never said he was a mutate," Solo growled, leaning heavily against the trash-can. "There you are again, withholding crucial information."

"Okay, in my defense, he has a broken leg so I honestly didn't think it would've been that hard."

Solo muttered fiercely back at him, more curses and swear words than anything.

"Sorry about that," Peter interrupted him, holding a placating hand out as if to soothe him, "My bad. I don't usually hurt people, I promise. Sorry, you had to get the brunt of it."

Solo's muttering sputtered to a stop as he looked at Peter in startled surprise. His expression was slack as though he didn't get apologies often and the mere fact that he was receiving one now was too much. He nursed his hurt arm to his stomach, looking at Peter as if he were some exotic creature he'd never seen before. "Er...uh...th - thanks..."

"We're heading out to an old friend to get patched up, you guys should tag along," Peter offered, much to Wade's open-mouthed chagrin.

"_Petey-" _

"Wade, they're hurt too. Besides, they helped you, didn't they? Might as well get them fixed up while we're at it."

Wade puffed and blew out his cheeks, but conceded, "_Fine_. Let's go then. Find a buddy and help them along. Petey, you think you can reach into my pouch and get my phone - it's actually Stingrays phone, but whatever - and call a cab."

"Sure," Peter leaned down and rummaged through the pouches around his waist, before pulling out the phone and quickly calling a taxi. "Alright," he said, as soon as the call was finished, "Who was Stingray again?"

Stingray raised his hand from where he was helping Terror along - Slapstick trailing behind them holding Terror's legs and arms - and Peter passed the phone to him. "Thanks. Hope Wade hasn't been overbearing with you guys."

"Overbearing," Stingray chuckled, "Do you _know _the guy? That's all he is."

"Feel free to walk home, Stingray," Wade snapped back. "We shoulda just kept the phone, Petey. I needed to upgrade mine anyway."

"Bien," Masacre said, lugging Solo against his body, "Al menos sabemos que este legendario novio es cierto."

"Quien dijo que yo era legendario?" Peter asked back.

Masacre froze, gasping, and almost dropped Solo, "Tu hablas español?"

"Sí, solía ser dueño de una empresa y muchos de mis trabajadores, el idioma nativo era el español. Ahora, ¿quién no creía que yo era real?"

This time, Masacre did drop Solo in favor of clapping his hands together and giving Peter a little bow, "Perdónanos, señor Petey. Mis colegas y yo no estábamos seguros de si su existencia era real o el producto de la imaginación de Deadpool."

"What the _fuck_, Masacre," Solo spat, holding his broken arm.

Peter smiled at Masacre and gave him a little bow back, "Comprensible. Tenga la seguridad de que soy real y en una relación con Wade."

"Con el debido respeto, Sr. Petey, pero ¿por qué? ¿Por qué él?"

At that, Wade gasped, and glared at Masacre, "Y pensar que solías ser mi favorito."

Masacre slowly turned to look at him, the picture of surprise. Before it melted away into a heated glare, and if not for Peter in his arms, Wade was certain Masacre would've been strangling him.

"¿PODRÍAS HABLAR ESPAÑOL TODO EL TIEMPO?" Masacre demanded.

"Oookay," Wade increased his pace, "Let's go. C'mon. We wasting time. WHO'S UP FOR SOME MEXICAN!"

"¿Qué demonios acabas de decir?"

"Whoops. Sorry, Masacre. My bad."

* * *

2 weeks later...

"Slapstick, what'd I say about putting your mallet in the kitchen?" Peter yelled, kicking the long, almost animated-looking weapon aside.

"OH COME ON, IT'S NOT EVEN THE WAY!" Slapstick shouted back, somewhere in the living room where he was getting involved in a heated game of checkers with Stingray.

"Move it or I'm throwing it out the window!" Peter warned, pouring himself a generous cup of coffee. In the other room, Slapstick gave a great, heaving sigh and trudged into the kitchen and snatched his mallet off the floor. He stuffed it into his pants where it disappeared with nary of bulge or blemish.

"Happy?"

"Very," Peter said, sipping his coffee.

Fool Killer bumped past Slapstick as he left, ignoring him to look desperately through the rag drawer. "Where is it? Where is it?" He muttered.

Peter leaned against the counter, peering over at him, "What'd you lose this time?"

"My gun! The new one I just bought. It's a new Benelli Black Eagle. Have you seen it."

"Might want to check Wade's closet," Peter said, "He might've thrown it in with his."

"Oh, he _better _not have!" Fool Killer sprinted out of the kitchen.

It's been nearly 2 weeks since Madcap's attack and Peter couldn't help but feel like his life had never settled down since. He had to stay several days at Tony's while one of his doctor-pals looked him over. Turns out his little rag-tag fighting with the mercs nearly shattered his leg completely. Not to mention all the cuts, bruises, and slight internal bleeding he got from Madcap.

Wade stayed with him, of course, even though he healed up just fine.

Surprisingly enough, after the unofficial Mercs for Money got bandaged up, they never really left. When Wade and Peter finally trudged back to their demolished apartment, 6 shadows followed them home.

Needless to say, they might've bonded a little while recovering. Peter found out Fool Killer had a dream of becoming a therapist and rehabilitator for villains. Slapstick was like a living cartoon and acted as such. Masacre was a big softie. Solo was _secretly_ a softie. Terror was loveable and funny when you got to know him. And Stingray was married and had a family.

They were a crazy bunch, but, somehow, Peter found them endearing. Besides, they were old friends of Wade who weren't all super intimidating and ready to gut him at the drop of a hat. Terror seemed a bit like that at first, but when Peter found out about his secret love of pasta and old romance movies, it was suddenly hard to think of him as anything but enjoyable. In a way, he kinda reminded him of Aunt May.

If Aunt May were a half-rotted corpses, that is.

All in all, they were nothing but a bunch of goofballs running around with guns. Which should've concerned Peter, seeing how he already had one goofball running around with a gun. But they were a sturdy group, and Peter let them know, right off, that killing was not tolerated around him. Surprisingly, they took it well.

It was fun hanging out with them. As it turned out, they hadn't believed Wade when he said he had a boyfriend, and to prove them wrong once and for all, Peter had kissed Wade right then and there.

The mercs came and went as they pleased. Sometimes showing up randomly during dinner, and other times right before he and Wade could get to the sexy part of their night. Irritating, but Wade hadn't maimed anybody yet. So it was good to know that he liked these guy enough not to dismember them for interrupting their private time.

None of them knew he was Spider-Man, though. Wade and Peter were careful to keep them oblivious. As far as they knew, Peter was nothing but a mutate who happened to fall in love with Deadpool. It was sounded like something out of a cheesy romance movie, but the mercs bought it, at least.

On the flip side, they hadn't told him their real names yet either. So, they're even.

"Now, I'm off to work," Peter said, stopping to kiss the top of Wade's head as he cleaned his guns out on the table.

"M'bye."

"And don't get any of that oil on the table-cloth."

"Yes, _mom_."

Peter stuck his tongue out at him and went into the living room. "We'll see you guys," he said, grabbing his jacket from the couch. "Solo, you still coming over for dinner later?"

"Yeah, I'll be there," he said, casting a thumbs up over his shoulder.

Peter shook his head, stuffed his feet into his shoes and headed out the door.

"By Peter," they all echoed at his back, and he cast a salute over his shoulder.

Before he could make it out the door though, Fool Killer came trudging back through the hall. "Hey, Peter," he said, holding something up, "What's this?"

Peter turned around and nearly spit out his coffee. Wade peered out from the kitchen, saw what was in Fool Killer's hand, and fell out of his chair.

Peter sprinted over to him and snatched the red and blue Spider-Man costume out of his hand and tucked it under his jacket. "Nothing. Nothing, it's nothing."

"Why was it in Wade's closet?"

Dammit, Peter forgot that was where he stashed his Spidey gear. "It's uh...s - sometimes Wade and I roleplay," he blurted and instantly went red.

The got the interest of the other mercs.

"Roleplay?" Slapstick parroted, leaning away from the board game with a smirk. "You roleplay as Spider-Man in bed?"

"Maybe," Peter hissed, "You all know how much he admires him."

"Wow," Terror whistled. "Impressive."

"Is it convincing?" Solo asked, and Peter slapped him upside the head.

"Oh shut up," he grumbled and tossed the costume back into the bedroom. "And not a word of this to anyone. Kapeesh?"

"Kapeesh," they begrudgingly agreed.

Peter pointed at each of them in turn, as if that would determine their truthfulness, before stalking to the door.

"Roleplay, huh?" Wade muttered as he walked by, and Peter pushed him back into the kitchen. He gave them a final wave and closed the door without another word.

As soon as he was gone, Terror laughed and tucked his hat over his head, "When are we going to tell him we already know he's Spider-Man?" he laughed.

"Eh, he's paranoid," Wade said, back to cleaning his guns. "Just let him have this."

**This was a very fun story to write! Like, I'm gonna have to use the Mercs for Money in future one-shots, because they're actually really fun. **

**Hope you guys all enjoyed this! I plan on writing more Spideypool one-shots and AU's, so keep an eye out for those! :D **

**Thanks for reading! If you liked, please drop me a comment below! Love ya! **


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